


Starfall

by DarkSilverWings



Category: Gintama
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Mental Breakdown, More tags to be added, Or Slow build?, Recovery, Relationship Development, Slow Burn, Tbh brief mentions of everyone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 05:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 77,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6457516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkSilverWings/pseuds/DarkSilverWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not when the sun sets or the moon dips that he worries for Hijikata, it's when the stars in his eyes fall to pieces and there's barely anything left of the man he's come to know. Somehow it's easier to open up to people who reflect you, but Gintoki thinks Hijikata is so much better and the fact of the matter is, Hijikata thinks Gintoki is better too.<br/>---<br/>A story about Hijikata collapsing and learning to stand again, Gintoki realising he's actually worried, and something neither of them really know how to describe</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wavering

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if this should be tagged as AU? It's not though, I wrote a lot of this while watching the Shogun Assassination Arc and the Farewell Shinsengumi arc as it was being aired, so it has a few references to it I guess.
> 
> My first put up on AO3, I'm posting this on my birthday and also the 10th anniversary of the Gintama anime  
> 

Wavering  
Sakata Gintoki/Hijikata Toshiro

It's somewhere between nightfall and dawn when he first hears it; he's drunk off his ringer, nearly wasted, fully ready to throw up and pass out in the garbage somewhere on the streets. Sougo is awfully quiet, though him joining the natural perm for a drink is a normal occurrence, and this is what prompts him to pipe up above his heaving hiccups and garbled thoughts, "Soichiro-kun, what's wrong with you? Don't tell me that mayora bastard-"  
"Its Sougo, and he's still alive", Sougo sips his drink, and the words don't hold the normal resentment when he states the fact.  
"Okay, so I see why you're grumbling, but honestly I'd be surprised if he let his guard slip for even half a second considering he looks like he's perpetually got a stick up his ass. Speaking of which, does he? I bet when he's relieving himself he reads the weirdest-"

"He's never done that", is the simple, curt reply that cuts him off and sobers him up just the little bit enough to push himself up and ponder if Sougo meant his vice commander had never done the deed or never relieved himself, the latter more ridiculous sounding. He couldn't, for the life of him, know what Sougo could possibly mean so he leans against his hand and asks, "Never done what, Soichiro-kun?"  
Sougo looks so sober it's ridiculous, his hair is messier and tousled and his uniform sloppily put on, it's then that he notices the red outlines of tears. He almost dismisses his question as a wasted effort but the answer pipes up softly, "He's never pleasured himself or let anybody else pleasure him. And it's Sougo not Soichiro."

Gintoki had never heard something so ridiculous in his entire life, honestly that V-bangs bastard was around the same age as him and had _never_ done a perverted thing in his life? He scoffs in a mixture of jealousy and pity and downs the rest of his drink before wandering out of the bar, forgetting he had been talking to Sougo at all while still being haunted by the blotched paths of skin where his tears and clumped. But why on earth had the sadist been crying at all? Because of the Mayora? Because the Mayora had never done anything sexual? Why would _Sougo_ of all people care at all about that?

It's only when he wakes up in Shinpachi's house with a massive hangover and a gorilla muttering from under the floorboards telling him yesterday was Okita Mitsuba's death anniversary that he finally understands why Sougo was crying and defending Hijikata. The guy might've been an asshole, but Sougo couldn't hate him with the conviction he should have, only because he made practical decisions and because he hadn't loved a single person before or since, and didn't give a single person what his sister never had.

\---

It's noon on a Thursday when he notices for the first time. He's strolling down the streets towards the Yorozuya having just finished a full size parfait and bailing out of paying for it by dumping the cup on Katsura with a faint, "We war buddies gotta stick together Zura." No doubt the long haired idiot was broke too, but the day was so warm and the streets so pleasant that he couldn't care less how Katsura would pay. He spots Hijikata in the shop that they both frequent, and a morbid curiosity brings him through the entrance chanting, "The usual for me!"  
He takes the seat next to Hijikata and smiles in a ridiculously forced way, earning a scoff. But that's it. Gintoki isn't hit, yelled at, kicked, or even glared at. "Did you finally get into anger management Oogushi-kun?" He prompts, when the owner of the shop puts down his Uji Gintoki-don. Hijikata doesn't look up, eyes fixated on the rice in front of him and it's then that the silver-haired man notices there isn't a single speck of mayonnaise. Nothing. Absolutely _none._

His eyes widen and he looks up at blank, empty blue eyes. Gintoki had unfortunately been around the Mayora so long that he knew the bastard's kaleidoscope blue eyes better than he knew the stories of his JUMP, which was ridiculous in itself but which also led to him actually noticing that these were the eyes of a stranger. "Oi, Oogushi-kun, don't ignore somebody when they're talking to you", he flounders with the words, trying to sound indifferent but he couldn't help the panic that had risen to his throat and forced the waver in his voice. A metal lighter flicks in Hijikata's hand and that's when the panic sets in fully, clenching at Gintoki's chest like barbed chains. Still he receives no response, only the silent clicking of the wooden chopsticks as Hijikata eats flavoured rice quietly. Gintoki is gripping the table so hard by now his knuckles have turned white and for the love of him he couldn't understand why he was getting this worked up. Was it because of Hijikata's ridiculously purity? Did he not want to see him break? Was he afraid?

Like a ton of bricks, suddenly it hit him. It was because those eyes were the ones he had procured in the fucking _war_ , surrounded by corpses as company and drenched in blood and sweat. The eyes of a mindless killer, a soulless demon, nothing less than a _monster_. Anxious denial swells through his veins, burning his skin and leaving tingles of fire everywhere because no, Hijikata fucking _Toshirou_ is not supposed to have eyes like that.  
Hijikata's eyes were meant to be blazoned with anger and a tinge of fondness, sometimes embarrassment and a satisfaction of his position in life, those eyes were blue and bright and full of life, drowning Gintoki in the sheer volume of the emotion behind them. Those eyes were beautiful and sparkling under the sheen of glares and authority, and why the hell was he looking like this now? Before Gintoki could register, his hands had grabbed tightly, almost desperately, the uniform collar of the man beside him, and pulled him close enough to feel the other's breath against his lips.

He knew his eyes were undisguised, swirling pits of panic and he was shivering, clutching onto the black fabric like a lifeline. Yet he still wasn't pushed away, wasn't punched in the face, didn't have to dodge a twisted sword. Hijikata's eyes remained blank, his body limp as it was yanked, not a trace of resistance on his face. Gintoki felt his heart stop when his lips parted in a small puff of breath, "...My name isn't what you called me." Is all he says, and Gintoki feels his lips quivering and something like daggers of cold fire pricking his eyes. But Hijikata speaks again, quietly, as if he hadn't the strength, "Who the hell is Oogushi?"  
Gintoki chokes heavily on whatever is caught in his throat, and can't bring himself to care about the desperation in his voice, "Hijikata. Hijikata. _Hijikata._ God, please look at me!" And he swore to the heavens when his voice broke that if Hijikata would stop giving him that look, Gintoki would never call him Oogushi-kun again.

\---

The warm air of Friday trickled through the window, dousing the night's cold and rousing what would've been a heavily-hungover Gintoki. But he had never gone to sleep at all, haunted by the last words he had heard from Hijikata that previous day, "...that's my name isn't it? Is it?"  
Gintoki had bolted after that, leaving his food untouched and a raging madness surging up in his veins, a bloodlust conquering him and demanding he found whoever or whatever had done this to Hijikata. So when the sun peeked at Edo, casting amber hues over the bleached buildings, he scrambled out of the curled up mess he had been and stuffed his feet in his boots, stopping momentarily to brush his teeth and use the bathroom, not that he had to considering he hadn't eaten a damned thing since that parfait yesterday. Not even Otose was up and yelling for rent when he stumbled out of his house and down the stairs with no coordination whatsoever, and normally Gintoki would revel in the quietude. Not today.

It surprises even him that he knew today was the day on which Kondo, Sougo and Hijikata took their rounds together, and he knew the exact route so it wasn't even with a pachinko parlour in his mind that he dashed for the area, to hell with the consequences. It's still early, most shops closed and streets empty, when he finally crosses the trio. It suddenly occurs to him that he has not a shred of an excuse to be in this area at this time seeing these people; he's refusing to dub himself a stalker because he doesn't even know how he recalled Hijikata's patrol schedule, but goddammit that look is still in his eyes and Sougo isn't holding a cannon and Kondo isn't laughing maniacally with an arm around his shoulders talking about Tae. No, Sougo's the one with a hand on Hijikata's shoulder, not an explosive in sight, and Kondo's reserved smile doesn't turn their way; he looks almost despondent. Hijikata walks on, hands stuffed in his pockets out of habit, an unlit cigarette between his teeth and pale lips.

Gintoki's frozen, and has no logical term for the relentless clawing he's feeling in his chest, or the burning lava that's in his throat, and notes that something is caught there again. "Fancy meeting you here, Yorozuya", Kondo lets out, calm and quiet, breaking the silence of the morning. Sougo gently pushes Hijikata behind him with one protective arm, glaring at the Yorozuya like a fire-spitting beast from the seventh level of hell. Gintoki stares quietly when Hijikata says nothing, head hanging and eyes almost shadowed, but he can still see the complete lifelessness in them where stars were meant to swirl. "What do you want, Danna?" Is what prompts him from his rising panic, and he realises he hasn't moved, not said a single word to acknowledge Kondo, unknowingly giving away that he had come here knowing they would be here. Red eyes widen with fear and his whole being screams _'No'_ when Hijikata lifts his head, the ghost of a smile on lips that allow the cigarette to fall out without a seeming care in the world, and mumbles, _"Gintoki"_ like it's a prayer.

It's then that he realises he's wanted a hundred and more times to hear that voice say his name, but not once like this. Not like this.  
The sound itself prompts both other officers to falter, Sougo's panicked gaze turns to his superior, uncharacteristic worry flashing through his eyes as he rests shaking fingers on the taller man's shoulders briefly before anger twists his frown into a snarl and he's lunging at Gintoki with the rage of a demon who'd been released after a thousand years. Gintoki's back slams against the wall, his legs are still shaking so he's glad for the support, and Sougo's yanked the collar of his black leather shirt and part of the half drawn on yukata. "You bastard, what did you do to him?!" Is the deep growling yell that emanates from the normally more docile boy who delivers threats with a smile from the land of sadists. Gintoki can't answer, the words are caught in his mouth and Kondo's eyes are shaded, his smile has dropped. He hadn't done a single thing to warrant Hijikata turning into this, but the thought it might have been his fault turns his insides to ash still cracking away in the wind.

A shorter figure with smooth black hair curling at his nape runs towards them, specifically the vice commander, and Sougo is away from Gintoki and in front of Hijikata like a protective best friend and okay when did that happen? What's even more ridiculous is that Gintoki is standing next to him, body having moved on it's own. Kondo pipes up softly when Yamazaki stops short, "Toshi? It's Zaki, you know, Yamazaki?"  
"Sagaru?" Is the response, followed by a stream of orders which means he can still do his job but Yamazaki looks petrified; horrified even, like he's about to be killed right there. Kondo is breathing in almost sighs and Sougo draws in a breath sharply. Immediately he knows it's because the Vice Commander had never once called Yamazaki by his name. Yamazaki looks like he's going to faint, and in a last ditch effort calls out, "Vice-Commander, I was out playing badminton all day yesterday! I'm sorry!" And that's the heaviest he can give, knowing if he was chased and beaten to death it would be worth it, but he wasn't. "That's alright, Sagaru", comes the muted response. Sougo chokes.

"Hijikata-san-!" Sougo's looking at him like a lost little brother, eyes frazzled with too many emotions and Gintoki knows his heart slows. Kondo motions, and Yamazaki is running, not before the flash of tears catches the light of the sun. "Sougo, aren't we on patrol?" And just like that, they're gone, leaving Gintoki too stunned to even move.

It's on a Friday that Gintoki realises he cares more than he's admitting and has observed more than he's comfortable with about the Vice-Commander.

\---

It slams against Hijikata too hard and too heavily on Mitsuba's birthday that he's been trying too much for people who care too little. He's repairing his door when his hand slips and the hammer falls to the ground with a clatter, he doesn't dodge Sougo's missile and is in the hospital for a week.

He's tired, exhausted both mentally and physically by people and work and just the sheer amount he does to get people to respect him instead of tossing him around like a ragdoll that had been around for too long. It starts with his voice failing, and his joints hurting with a dull pain like there's wax under his skin. His legs give out, then his arms feel heavier, till he's entirely lead weight and dying on his feet. He had failed. Failed to keep his promise to Mitsuba to light up the world, failed to keep people he cared for by his side, failed to gain enough respect, failed to become someone worthy of Edo. The streets and food lose meaning; everything tastes like dry sponge so he doesn't even bother himself to buy mayonnaise, and metal lighters are smaller so he buys one.

Placing a cigarette between his lips became habit, he rarely ever lit one after that week, and everything seemed to turn monochrome. It just wasn't worth trying anymore. At first he wanted to explode in rage, he wanted to burn everything down and go on a killing rampage, but not a single thing could be done; he's not that person anymore. So he gives up, slowly, surely, piece by piece discarding the image he had built, giving orders only through memory of how they should be. If Sougo wanted to kill him at this moment, not a single protest would have been voiced and not a single muscle tensed to jump away. He doesn't bother to cut his hair even when the strands are in his face more than usual or the ends brush his nape, and he doesn't bother to yell "Seppuku!" At everyone who disobeyed orders. For a reason he couldn't place however, they all seemed to follow orders quickly and efficiently the minute the words left his lips. Maybe it was just the sheer emptiness in his soul but his functionality was on autopilot and his character discarded like a cloak.

His door rattled as Sougo entered the room, Kondo trailing and a silence between them so thick it felt weighted, "Hijikata-san?" He tries to reply with a snark or a glare or a puff off smoke but he can't bring his hands to the lighter, he really tries but his lips don't move. His chin dips in a nod and that's the most he can do, expecting and slightly even hoping he gets a grenade to the face, but nothing hits him. Hijikata's surroundings don't quite register besides that he knows this is his room and vaguely where everything is, a huge fall from his knowing the exact position of every item in every place he was in. Sougo's sitting in front of him now, and Kondo is by his side. He can't comprehend why they don't get up and leave so he speaks, "...I've finished all the paperwork, Kondo-san, Sougo."

Sougo curses under his breath, tugs Hijikata's hair so he can look at his face, and then begins to shiver. Kondo doesn't move, his eyes are shaded still and his mouth grim, and Hijikata briefly wonders why he isn't at the Shimura dojo. Maybe he wants an escort? "Kondo-san, we could accompany you to the Shimura dojo", is what he mutters softly, hardly caring that Kondo is actually his superior and should be doing his work. Sougo makes a sound, and he might have been crying if not for his dry cheeks. Was that a whimper? He doesn't get time to think about it because he's being pulled somewhere and suddenly there's black fabric in his face and two pairs of arms around him. The wretched cold is gone, it's not present inside this little haven of bodies that he realises are Sougo's and Kondo's and he breathes softly, the scent of detergent and gunpowder calming his senses even though Sougo's still shaking uncontrollably. Kondo's sobbing ceaselessly and the tears are dampening Hijikata's hair, but he can't bring himself to try to understand what's bothering them, and why they were coming to him for comfort. Still, their arms are oozing warmth that seeps through his skin and washes relief over his exhausted body. He's been overworking himself too much for too long.

Eventually however, he's let go of and a hand contracts on his shoulder briefly before the biting cold weaves it's frosty fingers through his skin again and he's unable to move enough to do more than glance as Kondo picks up the paperwork, clutching it tightly, before muttering, "Toshi, I'll take you up on offering to escort me to Otae-san's place." Hijikata's aware of what to do, he steels his legs before standing, a brief frown twisting his lips when his limbs shake slightly but neither of the others notice so he quietly clips on his sword, sliding it through the loop of his belt and dons the uniform jacket he had draped over the back of his chair. His legs carry him behind Kondo and even if they hadn't, Sougo's steering him with an arm on his shoulder as if he's a child. But he's doing his job so who's to care and what's to complain.

\--

Shinpachi and Kagura are squabbling over what to make for dinner since neither would allow the boy's sister to cook a single thing in the house. The dojo is lively with their screaming and hitting and Otae's laughter, but Gintoki is quiet. They haven't noticed because he's been acting perfectly normal, and simply felt a few minutes silence while they argued was forgivable. Usually the silence drives a vice into his being and doesn't allow him to so much as breathe, thoughts and voices he'd already killed physically still haunting the plagued dreams of his half-dead mind. _Can a person be alive yet a corpse?_ He doesn't know, he hadn't gone to school very long. But this time his feverish mind grasps instead onto the alabaster contours of a certain dark-haired man's face and just how much more it hurt to see him now than any pain from the countless times he'd been injured by him or with him before. He realises this is because he wouldn't take back a single action during any of those fights, in fact he would do it all again to protect all he had been at the time, but he would take back anything if he knew it were the cause for Hijikata's...whatever this was.

Gintoki can briefly relate it to his person at the time Kondo was to be beheaded for treason but even then he had rose to the jests Gintoki had sent and met with fervour every jaunt and jab, even then he had confusion surging through his eyes and a shiver to his soft hand and his listless frown when Gintoki had taken that punch. Hijikata had listened wide-eyed when Gintoki told him so easily, so silently of his past and his choices and it surprised even himself because that was something not even Otose and the other two Yorozuya knew, hell not even Katsura knew the exact emotion because they hadn't seen his eyes like Hijikata had, and he hadn't even looked disapproving or scornful, he looked like he had finally pieced something together that had been evading his grasp so long since their first rooftop encounter and more than anything he looked like he _understood_ , which scared Gintoki down to the bone.

But this time there was no life in him, he walked as much of a corpse as Gintoki, yet was blameless of any fault that had been thrust upon him to make him like this. His form of self-loathing was denying himself anything he wanted, condiments, tobacco, even the leeway towards treatment of subordinates his position as Vice Commander allowed. It wasn't quite the same as Gintoki's throwing away any fortune of penny that came his way or drinking himself nearly to death, laying in alleyways among the garbage as was his place and throwing up till his throat burned from whatever he had consumed, but it wasn't quite different. A soft sigh escapes him, he's spent a lonely, alcohol-deprived month full of sleepless nights and restless days trying to place exactly why he was so worried about someone who had seemed so trivial. But he knows that's not the case, he knows his eyes flickered recognition since the day he saw Hijikata first, and he knows over the long, long years he's known the bastard that he's slowly started becoming attached.

Indifference in his body turned to what he assumed was repulsion but really was just uncalled for affection and since he'd come to terms with that fact, he was openly able to exhibit that his words were merely a friendly form of playful because he enjoyed what they had, and he enjoyed that Hijikata knew this and yet matched every mock-disgusted word with his own. He enjoyed that they could drop that and knew fully that both would stand together till hell's gate, and most of all enjoyed the silent moments when he spoke of his past in bars and road-side shops, and during which Hijikata was so so accepting and honest and welcoming, it brought a warmth to him that no evanescent liquid ever could. It's the fact that it's taken a month for the smouldering in his blood to come to glowing embers in the dawn that sets his entire soul on flames faster than if it had been doused in gasoline when Hijikata appears at the dojo doorstep.

Sougo growls and steps in front of him again, protectively, possessively, and Gintoki finds himself glaring because he believes that's far too unfair since Sougo spent practically every day he had known Hijikata trying to kill him; but to _be_ fair after he had seen the fierce loyalty Sougo had shown when he declared he wouldn't move an inch until Hijikata asked it of him, even to rescue Kondo who both held in such high regard, Gintoki couldn't say he didn't expect this reaction. Still he glared, ignoring his mind protesting telling him Sougo had known Hijikata since he was a brat and Hijikata a teenager. The reason of them being here was obviously Kondo, but the gorilla didn't look the least bit interested in Tae at the minute, he was at the front door respectably standing five feet from her and she was stunned. "Kondo-san, Hijikata-san, Okita-kun! Would you like to come in for some tea?" And neither Sougo nor Hijikata spoke, but Kondo's smile didn't quite reach his eyes when he said, "Thank you, I apologise for the intrusion."

The three entered the compound, past Gintoki's chittering teeth and the heavy chill that washed over him as Hijikata passed. This time there wasn't even a cigarette in his mouth, and Gintoki's soft curse went thankfully unheard. "Gin-chan who's th- **What's the sadist doing here?!** " Kagura yelled, oblivious to the situation and lunged at him with her umbrella. Mistaking it as towards Hijikata, Sougo drew his sword, eyes flashing a raging bloody threat and countered. Gintoki's body moved on its own once more, drawing Hijikata's body to his own with a hand on his torso pulling his back to Gintoki's front, bokutō drawn in front of the other's body and eyes blazed in panic. But it was _Kagura_ and she had been going for _Sougo_ and now she's dropping her umbrella and asking in a worried voice, "Gin-chan?" Echoed by the same from Shinpachi and Tae.

His nose and lips briefly register that Hijikata's hair smelled and tasted insanely nice, like cherry blossoms and menthol as a shampoo, but he sputtered for an explanation as to why he did that and stepped away, dropping his weapon as his eyes widen. But somehow both Shinpachi and Tae seemed to understand he couldn't explain it, and a glance to Kagura told her not to question the matter so she kept her mouth closed, even Kondo offered a spark of gratitude from his eyes. But Sougo lost it, dropping his sword and punching Gintoki across the face faster than likely even he could comprehend, and Gintoki registered that the panic across his eyes was an angered, blind rage of a similar feeling to the one he himself felt. "Don't you dare touch him", came the venomous words and he felt himself lurch, but pale fingers touched Sougo's shoulder, "Sougo, leave him be, I doubt he understood his movement."

But _oh God_ he did understand, he knew the reeking protective possessiveness he felt was even more explosive than Sougo's and he was containing it, he knew exactly what that was and he wasn't acknowledging it just yet. Still, Sougo was convinced, worried and anxious gaze turning to his superior and hands unclamping from Gintoki's clothes as he tried to form words, managing, "But Hijikata-san-!" And Hijikata offers a faint smile that looks so broken and so misplaced that Sougo grabs on to Hijikata's jacket and pulls till they were close enough to be embracing but weren't quite. The same pale fingers pat Sougo's light coloured hair and Gintoki feels a pang somewhere he can't place. The younger boy breathes deeply then struts forward behind Kondo who had left with the other three, but not before he had tried to steer Hijikata with his hand on the other's shoulder and received a brief shift of muscle in response, which was enough for him to leave with an agitated glare.

Fingers touched his cheek absentmindedly and Hijikata's warm breath hit his lips, smelling like cold butterscotch and vanilla essence, and his voice held none of its usual feel when he murmured to the wind, "I remember when you let me punch you. You shouldn't have." And Gintoki smiled as softly and sweetly as possible for him, and wished he didn't smell like strawberry milk cartons, "I would do it again, Hijikata-kun." Because he couldn't bring himself to say 'Oogushi-kun' again as if Hijikata wasn't worth remembering. The man's smile melted away, mouth dropping into a line that was shivering downwards and a confused voice let out a stream of shaking, broken words, " _Fucked up-_ I couldn't- temper caught- tried for- for for Kondo-san- Yorozuya- I needed to- I shouldn't have- you can hit me- why- _why- Gintoki..._ " And Gintoki felt more volts of electricity shock him than should've left him alive but it all came from his pounding aching heart so there was no question, in fact this was proof, of just how alive he was.

The softened, urgent call of his name again caught him in a place where he wanted to both scream and cry, but could do neither and wouldn't have anyway. Hijikata's cold, trembling fingers drop from his bruising cheek and shake in violent fists by his side that had more desire to drive his nails into his palm than to punch anyone but himself. Gintoki registers his arms winding around Hijikata's slim waist and pulling him closer before his mind can halt his movement. He's so sure Sougo will come to pull Hijikata away and punch him again but they're alone and Hijikata isn't moving more than his shuddering and ragged breaths.

Then he stops and touches Gintoki's wrists, breathing calm and even and eyes almost shaded as before as if not a thing had happened. Gintoki moves wordlessly away, and walks behind Hijikata as he strides with purposeful ease to the sitting room where Kagura is hugging her knees and eating biscuits, Shinpachi is letting the steam from the tea fog his glasses, Otae is clutching the serving tray with white knuckles, Sougo is positioned in an impatient half-crouch with a hand on the hilt of his sword and Kondo is listlessly staring outside at the trees, sitting comfortably and unnaturally, not stuffed in a closet or peeping from a tree. Everything looks so out of place and briefly he can't stand that this is because of Hijikata and briefly he wonders if he should hate him but then he notes that it's not _Hijikata's_ fault.

The man is trying his hardest given his state, doing his work and taking his patrols and escorting his superiors where-so-ever they desire to go, but that's what's utterly wrong. Not the doing in itself because Hijikata has always been perfection beyond belief but the lack of permanent furrow in his brows and deliberate weight in his steps carrying an air of superiority, without the blunt retorts and yelling at everyone who dared move a hair out of order in his breathing space, without the constant demands of _Seppuku for this_ or _disembowel yourself for that_ , without the ungodly mayonnaise stream he thrived in and the chain smoking disaster that his lungs were, Hijikata just wasn't himself. He wasn't doing a single thing morally or physically wrong but psychologically had thrown everyone around him into a disarray he couldn't have predicted and it just wasn't humane to believe that they all accept the lie of being alright because that lie was stiff.

Still it horrifies Gintoki to see Shinpachi, Tae and Kagura return to laughing, screaming regularity after witnessing the soul-shattering unfamiliarity in the prussian of those eyes, he's disgusted by the thought that perhaps they hadn't noticed at all and he's out the door before they can talk of tagging along. He realises Hijikata knew the laughably small number of people who would chase behind his crumbling figure in the distance, and he realised the bastard knew exactly what those people would do. _Nothing._ Not a _single thing_ because they were all _cowards._


	2. Heightened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If the blood pounding in your ears is louder than the heavy sound of your voice as it scrapes past your throat, it's the scream you fight back and the neutral face you put on that makes the most difference to the breaking of my heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohmygod I have no idea how to specify a lot of things, such as, this fic is not complete, but enjoy this new chapter (I have a few that I've already written but I'm still at around chapter 5, so updates will be whenever I get around to editing them here)

Heightened  
Sakata Gintoki/Hijikata Toshiro

Gintoki hates that it comes to pass, that it been months and that everyone has accepted it. He hates that Yamazaki has tear stains marring his face, hates that Sougo doesn't nap as much anymore, hates that Kondo isn't sleeping in Tae's attic or under floorboards, and hates that he can't bring himself to even call Hijikata 'Mayora bastard' anymore. Because where the hell was the mayonnaise? He never thought in his lifetime he would be craving to see something so revolting as the retch-worthy amounts of so-called 'universal condiment' on food in a bowl next to his, never thought he'd honestly crave anything not sweet enough to hasten his steps to the door of diabetes, but here it was. Gintoki also thought he had had enough smoke choked in his throat from when Takasugi had started, thought he didn't want a single speck more of the cancer-causing tar in his lungs and yet the need to smell menthol-scented tobacco became overwhelming.

Gintoki hates that he's still a wishy-washy natural-perm moron who wakes up too late, reads JUMP loyally and watches the weather lady while yelling at the younger occupants of the Yorozuya. He despises that the streets still are as lively as ever, his ever growing family showing their faces at his doorstep or across his path as often as before and despises himself for still being able to walk with his dumb dead-fish-eyed, bored-to-death expression. He hates that he doesn't get drunk enough to pass out in alleys anymore, paranoid that Hijikata will see him in that state again and realise every damn thing has gone back to normal when it _hasn't_ , it really hasn't for Gintoki and he's the only one who knows that. He's hates that he knows exactly how to act and _exactly_ how to behave, he hates that he goes through internal spontaneous combustion every time he sees Hijikata on the streets and hates that he never has it in him to stop the Vice Commander. He abhors how normal everything feels and this is now a routine.

Shinpachi and Kagura don't find him throwing up at three in the morning anymore, don't see him stumbling drunkenly at four through the doors, don't even see him drunk anymore at all because the minute his half-drunk mind thinks of straight black hair, he sobers faster than he can take another two shots. His sobriety is boundless with this topic, and he doesn't even want to drink anymore because _why should he be allowed the burn of alcohol when Hijikata isn't allowing himself the scorch of cigarettes?_  
It's too long since he's seen him around even on patrol and suddenly he's unreasonably fidgety, and clenches his jaw tighter when Tama mentions almost flippantly that Yamazaki had taken time off to visit Hijikata. _Visit._ In the _hospital._

Gintoki is out the door before Kagura is even conscious of anything but a toothbrush and running down the streets like his yukata was on fire. The woman at the counter doesn't even give him a once over, he doubts she even sees him when she looks because she's smiling so wide it's gruesome. She asks for the name of the patient and he almost gives his own but chokes out a, "Hijikata. Demon Vice Commander Hijikata Toshiro of the Shinsengumi." His mind chants the name in unmistakable orison with a fervour that sways his silver clamped apathy. An encroaching, supercilious voice runs a susurration of, _'But you were never the apathetic one.'_ And he knows that's not entirely true, he had just never been good at seeing and believing there were people who actually cared for him that weren't corpses on a battlefield or ecru locks matted with blood from his disturbingly sanguine katana. 

It's not entirely true because Hijikata wasn't apathetic permanently either, there was a too-large range of things that ticked him off and people that got on his last nerve for him to actually allow himself the luxury of not caring even a smidge, but it's the work that lets him finally dissolve past the front to a state and position where he really, truly doesn't find it in him to care about anything as long as the work is done and the workstation is clean and orderly.  
Gintoki still chooses to believe he does not wish to see the carmine flashes, startlingly incandescent against cold zaffre pools and alabastrine skin. He's waiting in a full minute of disbelieving thoughts and thoughtless worry, and is practically at the elevator as soon as the lady's says, "Room 820." His leather boots pound against the sterile floors of the hospital, head whipping both directions scanning for the number. When he finds it, though the door looks exactly the same, he finds it feels different, like it's emanating a different aura and he knows he's convinced of this only because it's _Hijikata_ behind that door.

Throwing open the door isn't as easy as it had seemed in his mind, and after running like a madman through the streets of Edo he's standing outside the door with a shaky fist. Was the room's occupant even awake? Should he knock? What if he was changing? But they were both guys so that wouldn't matter very much...probably. Gintoki takes a deep breath to fill his collapsed lungs and reaches for the door, but it's jerked inwards away from his fingers and his widened eyes meet Sougo's heavy flow of tears and guilty cursing. "O-okita-kun I didn't think I would-"  
"Shut it", is forced out through clenched teeth and before he can make more than the beginning of a sound, he's gone.  
He knows not a single thing could be found out by standing there so he knocks twice and then twists the doorknob with a soft, "Sorry for the intrusion."

Hijikata's laying on his side with the blankets up to his shoulders, various gifts to his right that were undoubtedly from Kondo, Sougo and likely a few nurses who were instantly smitten.  
His tempestuous flood of questions sputters out in a mix of syllables, but Hijikata's empty, searching gaze just flicks up in acknowledgement. Gintoki could swear he saw a hint of understanding but maybe it was just his imagination. His garble of noises is cut short by Hijikata's shifting his hand and smoothening part of the sheets, which Gintoki takes as an inclination to drop himself next to those pale fingers and hang his head between his knees in wait. "Sougo got mad, he cut me up", Hijikata mutters and Gintoki turns his face a little hoping his eyes convey the message of _'Show me?'_  
Thankfully they do; he slides the sheets to his torso and pulls the hospital dress up to his chest, exposing the bandages around his midriff and near his hips. Gintoki's stunned into silence because all these months it's been _Sougo_ who ceaselessly protected Hijikata from anyone and everything, it's been Sougo who snarled at Gintoki and spat at Kagura, and more than anything he thought maybe Sougo understood _why._

But his own mind finds the stem Sougo climbed, a bottomless pit of worry and anxiety originating from an unknown source that they were not even close to understanding, let alone solving. He _knows_ that Sougo was driven into frustration and a ridiculous need to know, and this is why he cut Hijikata, in his own pathetic impatience. Now he both understands why Sougo was crying and wants to punch the bastard to a next life. Hijikata likely noticed his expression change from confusion to comprehending to anger, and icy fingers touch his wrist. He stops short, looking listlessly up as Hijikata pushes his shirt down and sits up, evidently it's too big because it almost slides off his shoulder. In some strange part of his mind he finds this alluring and there's a pressing need to touch the skin to see if it really was as soft as it looked, which likely it wasn't considering the incessant Shinsengumi training. "You can have your turn", comes the almost-whisper, and at the confused expression Gintoki makes he furthers, "You don't understand it either right? You can have your turn to take out your anger. I'm already in the hospital so an extension on my stay won't do too much harm as long as I finish paperwork for Kondo-sa-"

"Shut up", Gintoki's visibly trembling in anger, in absolute rage that Hijikata would even assume he would do such a thing. It rips at him even more that he actually _stops talking_ and moves to sink back to laying on his side against the soft bed, and this time he's fully conscious of his need to hold Hijikata, to confirm the moron is real, so he reaches out his hand and does his best to ignore the other's flinch, and he pulls Hijikata to his chest. Hijikata stiffens, and he can feel the hitch in breath against his neck, but after a soft huff against his skin, he lets himself be held. This is right, this is confirmation that Hijikata is alive and breathing, that his hair still smells like cherry blossoms and menthol, and that he's not a corpse at all. Gintoki knows by cradling his head and resting his hand on Hijikata's waist that he's so full of life, breath and scents and dips and curves, and a faint smile manages to touch his lips as he counters a, "I'll pass my turn to you Hijikata-kun, for not bringing you back to the world of the living yet." The only response he gets for a while is soft breathing and a placid lack of desire to move at all, which is alright with him because that's all he had wanted to say, wanted him to know he would definitely get him out of this and solely because he couldn't see someone he cared about fall into the crevice he'd been stuck in for the better part of a decade.

Various bottles and tablets lay on a metal tray in the corner of the room that Gintoki didn't look to before, and he realises Hijikata should be drugged senseless, but he really isn't. Or maybe he is because the muffled words cause his eyebrows to raise, "...come visit."  
Gintoki mumbles into his hair, "When?"  
"Anytime you're free."  
A flush of warmth rushes through his skin and he smiles again, tracing the characters of Hijikata's first name against the hospital dress. It occurs to him that maybe he isn't talking about just while he's in the hospital and if this could be used as an excuse to check on him more often then he was damn well going to take it, so he speaks again, "Where can I visit?"  
Hijikata seems to ponder over this, his lashes sliding against Gintoki's neck, a sensation he can't describe, only he knows it's pleasant. "Wherever you have time for", is the muted reply against his shoulder before Hijikata moves away enough to look at him. For a male, Hijikata had very pretty eyelashes. They were dark and long, casting spiked shadows over his cheeks and creating an almost ornamental frame for his crystalline eyes, and something wrenched in Gintoki's chest. He took this as an indicator to say, "Has anyone told you how pretty your eyelashes are, demon Vice commander-san?" His tone is light in a way that's both teasing and completely honest, and he doesn't understand the scarlet tinge that comes to Hijikata's cheeks when he shakes his head. Gintoki tightens his hold on the other's waist briefly then stands, knowing he couldn't get away longer than this if he were to explain where he had been to Shinpachi's damned mothering instinct. Hijikata's still looking at him, but he takes the standing as a departure and sinks back onto the pillow, eyes sliding halfway-shut and Gintoki's torn between running out the door and sitting against the headboard and having Hijikata fall asleep against his chest. He does neither.

"They really are beautiful, and they would be even without that stardust you've sprinkled across them", is what he opts to say, with all the sincerity he could muster. Hijikata's lip turns in the slightest smile, and Gintoki knows too well how physically impossible it was considering that smile was real, and it was for him. The best Gintoki had been able to do all these years is a wolfish grin, and the first time he'd smiled really was after a good ten years of his life had passed. After he'd fallen out of raw emotion, however, it had taken him nearly four years to smile, and it had been to Zura on the battlefield when they were both too close to dying to notice how lifeless they were living. Four _years_ , and it had taken Hijikata six months. It's then that he knows Hijikata is stronger than him, he's got control over this and he's doing his best to fight it back, no matter that nobody noticed he was. The door closes behind him with a magnetic click, and he wanders to the pachinko parlour and drops himself out front like he'd been there too long. It doesn't take more than ten minutes for Shinpachi to come screaming down the streets about not wasting their precious money on pachinko, Kagura tailing him humming strange music to Sadaharu.

He visits everyday, to say a few words and he's picked up the habit of dropping a card, but he never stays more than five minutes at the most. Hijikata doesn't comment on it, usually the most he gives as an acknowledgement is a low hum or a tightening of the blankets around him, or on the days he's doing paperwork a small pause in the scratching. The cards are generic, cheap fifty yen things he picks up from Hijikata's frequented cigarette shop, but he knows Hijikata recognises them and normally would kick him in the face for the one-line sappy messages like, 'The sun is waiting for your smile' or 'That laugh could cure plague.' As he is he notices his gifts, be it cards or cigarettes or little candy bags, are all kept away from the others, neatly arranged in a way that suggested they'd been glanced over more than once. It's on the day before Hijikata is released, the nurse at the front desk tells him about that when he should've heard it from the man himself, that Gintoki stays longer than he should.

On all the other days, he's glad Hijikata senses he isn't staying long and doesn't smooth the sheets for him to sit or gesture to the chair by his bed, he's grateful because he isn't sure he can outright refuse if he's asked to stay. This time Kagura and Shinpachi come with him, because he told them where he was going and Kagura wouldn't slip a chance to fight Sougo. Gintoki hasn't seen him since the day he first visited Hijikata, and doesn't ask where he is but knows he's around from the telltale gifts of chocolate shaped like grenades or when he leaves his stupid eye-mask on the desk. Shinpachi trails quietly behind him, and despite the chatter Gintoki is keeping up with Kagura, he's easily able to see his automatic direction to the room, he knows Gintoki's been here before, and doesn't comment on it. The door's slightly open, and they stop short, freezing when they hear voices, "Hijikata-san, I didn't mean to-"  
"Go ahead Sougo, my sword's by the medicine tray if you need two."

And instantly Gintoki _knows_ what's going on, he knows Hijikata's offering to let Sougo lose his cool again and he knows with full conviction that he wasn't going to let it happen. He kicks open the door, startling Kagura into a short scream and strides across the room, eyes ablaze. He crouches by the bed and pulls Hijikata to his chest, bokutō pointed exactly at Sougo and offers his best snarl, "Who's the one who told me not to touch him, Soichiro-kun?"  
Hijikata blinks confusedly, he can feel it through his shirt, and then he moves away in silent admittance that he needs to sort this out with Sougo. Gintoki complies, standing at his side with his drawn weapon angled downwards. "I swear upon the kyokchu hatto that I will never let my temper hold my blade against my will to you", Sougo speaks, his voice deathly serious and the only sound after is the stunned shuffle of Shinpachi and Kagura entering the room. He glances briefly at Kondo, who's leaning against the window, and brings his attention to Hijikata, noticing the almost murky hue his eyes have taken as he replies a short, "Your words are testified against the kyokchu hatto with witness Commander Kondo Isao of the Shinsengumi."

Gintoki knows it's protocol for a superior to testify a sworn oath, knows the witness must be of a suitable rank, and knows at that moment Hijikata doesn't honestly care if Sougo would pull a stunt like this again. But Gintoki cares, and he's silently approving of the oath. He lets Sougo sit beside Hijikata and watches the latter ruffle his hair and nod in the only gesture of forgiveness he can put forth. Sougo stands, and goes to drop bait to anger Kagura, and she takes it as easily as always, though their arguing seems quieter. Or maybe that's because Gintoki isn't bothering to listen. Hijikata touches the sheets, and that's enough for the natural perm to perch himself behind where Hijikata is, and his arms wrap around Hijikata's torso and pull him to rest against his chest. He just hopes his yukata isn't too rough against Hijikata's arms, but if it is he hears no complaint. Again, initially there's a stiffness that comes on instinct but slowly he relaxes, allowing the planes of his back to match those of Gintoki's front, odd and misfitting in some places and perfect fit in others.

Shinpachi looks at them in bewilderment, expression going from horrified to understanding to accepting, and then sees the little cards and star shaped cheap candies that nobody but Gintoki would buy, and suddenly he knows where he's been all at once. Kondo glances towards them, as if challenging Gintoki to let go if he were ashamed but he didn't so much as budge. He notices that the raven locks now smell like green apple, possibly from the hospital shampoo, and ponders whether he likes this better and decides he doesn't. He finds his fingers tracing the other's first name again, but can't bring the words to pass his lips so keeps silent. It's on this day that Hijikata asks a question and Gintoki knows he's been wondering too long, "Why did you come?" And he doesn't just mean today. He means _why would you show up every day for two and a half weeks to the hospital room of a stranger on a whim?_

Gintoki wants to say they aren't strangers, wants to say they should at least be something close to friends and wants to ask if he's willing to become drinking buddies. He looks at his hand over Hijikata's shoulder and sees a red string connecting their little fingers, he frowns and blinks, and it's gone but he can still feel a tug on his hand. When was the last time he slept? He sighs against the muscle and rests his face there, answering with a quiet, "Wanted t' see you." Hijikata hums and the unspoken question hits him again, 'Why?' But he decides this is the perfect time to ask, "When you get better, lets go out for a drink." Then cringes as he realises that sounds awfully like a date and considers that as well. His mind is addled with the somnolent comfort of Hijikata just near him and he can't contemplate that just yet so lets the question hang ambiguous. 

He feels more than sees the dip of his chin that's paired with a slight shrug. Gintoki smiles, and forgets there's four others watching him. Hijikata seems to recognise what he's been drawing on the fabric and frowns, the slightest shift of expression, but doesn't object. After all, the name hasn't left his lips yet. They stay like this too long, the screaming gets louder around them and it's only when Katsura enters the room with a, "Gin-Gintoki! I didn't know you were into-" that the spell around them is broken.  
Gintoki's beyond annoyed because Hijikata moves to allow him to talk and he desperately didn't want him to move, so he groans and throws the nearest thing he can find at Zura, which happens to be an empty bottle of medicine that smashes against his face. Elizabeth carries him away still in shock and Gintoki whines again, reaching his hands to find Hijikata and is met with cold fingers on his wrists.

Now he positively hates Katsura and the bastard's horrible timing, and pouts at Hijikata. The man squeezes his wrist and that's enough of a response, so he drops his hands and yawns. "Are you done cuddling up to our vice commander Danna?" Sougo asks, holding off Kagura with one hand and a sheathed sword. Before Gintoki can answer Sougo smirks devilishly, like he's caught onto the joke of the century and continues, "He's very nice to cuddle with, everyone in the Shinsengumi asks for hugs all the time, although he usually kicks them and asks them to commit seppuku." Hijikata himself has a slight furrow of confusion in his brow and Gintoki knows by that that Sougo is lying, but Kondo and the others certainly don't. "Sougo! Why didn't you tell me?! Toshi come here~", is sung out before Kondo launches himself at Hijikata and hugs him so tight that he nearly falls on the bed and in his current state he can't protest. His arms remain limp instead of holding Kondo, unlike the requite that he'd given the other by resting his arms on the pair Gintoki had wrapped around him. 

Kondo is gushing and marvelling about how Sougo is right and he's so comfortable, then Kagura shoves him out of the way to have her turn and hugs Hijikata, pressing her face to his exposed neck and he reaches up a hand to pat her once. Then Kagura's gushing, "What's this?! How can a Shinsengumi dog have such soft skin and still be strong?! Where do his muscles go?!" All while twisting her face around in his neck, crumpling the fabric of his shirt. Then Kondo pulls her away and they're screaming about who's turn it is; Sougo nudges Shinpachi, who is obviously curious as well and he comes to sit in front of Hijikata and asks politely, "May I hug you, Hijikata-san?" And Hijikata nods listlessly, moving his arms behind him so Shinpachi can wrap his own around his torso and clearly the boy is blushing out of embarrassment. Hijikata sighs, and rests one arm against the boy's back to calm him down and soon Shinpachi looks amazed too and mumbles, "He's so warm! How is he so warm? Why is his skin this soft?! Why are his fingers so cold?"

Gintoki really wants nothing more than to shove the four of them out the window and lock the door so Zura can't get in again, but can't comprehend why. So he sits quietly as Shinpachi thanks him and lets go, still looking amazed, and proceeds to try to separate Kondo and Kagura so they don't destroy the room. Gintoki's attention is pulled by a tug on the sleeve of his yukata, and is more than glad when Hijikata rests his cheek against Gintoki's collar and breathes more calmly. Gintoki's arm wraps around his waist again and he's perfectly happy to stay like this permanently, but the nurse comes in to tell them visiting hours are over and he notices the tangerine swirls of sunset outside the window. He looks down, admiring the light cast on Hijikata's lashes and cheeks, flecking his hair with the rose and sky blue hues of sunset and bringing out the forest undertone. Peach shadows play across the pale skin, urging Gintoki to touch his cheek at least. 

His fingers held an inch from them; he didn't allow himself so intimate a touch, whether the other was coherent or not. The nurse was still yelling, and Shinpachi was calling, "Gin-san! We can come back later! Lets go!" Of course there was no 'later' considering Hijikata would be released tomorrow, and Gintoki wonders briefly if he would never see the light colour his face in this way. After another moment mapping the picture in his mind, he nudges Hijikata lightly, causing him to shift and blink at him, then at everyone else and the nurse before dropping his head on the pillow and tugging the sheets back up. The nurse flushes pink and Gintoki would've flicked her in the head if Sougo hadn't already. While the five of them walked from the room he heard Kagura complain, "It's no fair, Gin-chan got to cuddle longest. Gin-chan it's not nice to take advantage of knowing things beforehand." Gintoki scoffed, resisting the urge to point out that Hijikata himself did not know and instead yawned widely. A certain contented feeling swelled and twined itself around the pit of anxiety Hijikata's emotionless eyes had drilled into him.

Of course the exact next day he's proven wrong when he goes to see Hijikata, expecting maybe some form of welcome but is met by a swirling vortex of cruel wartime spawn in those eyes and a muted hum before the vice commander is gone, hands in his pockets and jacket billowing behind him. He isn't even acknowledged, not a word is said, and Sougo joins him on the patio to share the piercing silence. Yes, piercing, because every single shred of his heart and soul feels like hundreds of daggers are stabbing him all at once, and his mind is in ruins as to how exactly he'd let his guard drop. The telltale signs were all there and yet he hadn't noticed till he'd gotten a proper look at his eyes. Whenever Hijikata's food looked untouched he would say he would eat later, whenever he looked exhausted in the hospital Gintoki chalked it up to the injury and even the stupidly obvious gifts from the nurses because which nurse in their right mind would waste chocolates on a man they'd never met? The damn staffing was overdosing him, the hospital was the only close one at the time but the doctor treating him was immature and the fucker had _overdosed_ Hijikata every day for nearly three weeks. And somehow Gintoki didn't notice? Honestly?

The after effects came like a whiplash, Hijikata isolating himself surrounded by paperwork, throwing away any semblance of organisation and immersing fully in his work. His face was barely seen outside the office and food left untouched at every meal. Gintoki visited the Shinsengumi every weekend only to hear the exact same words from Sougo, "He hasn't gotten better." And of course he hasn't, how could he have when he was still dealing with the after effects of medicine and particularly _painkiller_ overdose? Gintoki didn't know very much but apparently an overdose of this particular painkiller had a side effect of lowering the pain threshold for a duration after dosage stops. Lowering the pain threshold for a _samurai_ who was meant to go on _raids_ and _fight the Joui faction._ Still there isn't a single complaint from the vice commander and Gintoki knows he should've noticed before, it was just plain cruel to watch. After the first week he sees Hijikata, covered in the blood of his victims, walking towards the barracks. He makes no move to acknowledge Gintoki, just continues walking and Gintoki is wondering just what level he feels pain at. They don't speak, and Gintoki's heading in the opposite direction anyway.

The cold evening air whips around him, making him wish he had taken at least a scarf, and he ducks into the shop quietly, relishing the warmth. "Gintoki?" It's Kyubei, alone and seemingly in disguise, sipping an orange liquid from her glass. He slides into the booth next to her, she's fairly less of a nuisance than anyone else at this time. He orders a milkshake and drums his fingers against the hardwood of the table. "Not drinking tonight?" Comes the question after a drawn out silence, and he makes a low sound of affirmation by way of an acknowledgement. The waiter serves the milkshake and he sips, watching the ice clink in Kyubei's glass. The quietude isn't uncomfortable, she knows better than anyone that there are times samurai need to collect their thoughts, if he could even call himself that. When he's gotten through half the drink he speaks, in a voice so soft he's unsure if she's heard him, "...have you ever been overdosed?"  
The answer is chaste, "On which kind of medicine?"  
"Painkillers."

She looks pensive, and tugs at her ponytail once before tapping a finger against the glass, "Yes, when I was younger, the caretaker was new and I had gotten injured in a fight." He made no response, and she deduced he wanted to know more so she continued, "It wasn't heavy overdose, he gave me the dosage for an adult instead of a child, but the medicine had a side effect of increasing my capability to feel pain."  
At this he perked up, letting the straw fall away from his lips and giving her his full attention.  
"It was not terrible since I had only taken the medicine for three days but for nearly a week after, even leaning against tree bark or scratching sand was a pain like having my skin peeled off with knives. I've heard in more prolonged overdosage, air itself can feel like cuts of metal string and breathing is worse than swallowing a box of toothpicks." Gintoki clenches his teeth, crushing the straw as he takes it back in his mouth and allows the taste of milkshake to slow his racing thoughts. Kyubei is patient, she doesn't speak any longer, and he's thankful for that. He's thankful for the relative silence that allows him to think.

If he recalled correctly, Sougo mentioned they would be having weekly raids on various terrorist-rumoured locations in Edo, and according to Kyubei's information Hijikata's symptoms would last a fair three more weeks. But even if he could corner him, he had no way of curing the symptoms and could do nothing by way of helping him. Still, Hijikata was a samurai so he probably wouldn't even tell Kondo or Sougo of anything at all. "Kyubei-chan, is there a cure?"  
"Not that I know of. Have you been overdosed, Gintoki?"  
"No, not me." So there was no way but to wait it out, and dammit all Gintoki was never the strategist so he hadn't the slightest idea how to go about thinking of ways to help the dark haired man. Kyubei offered a faint smile when he lifted his gaze, and he returned it in kind, dread masking his expression at the telltale sound of straw against the empty milkshake cup.

\---

The ruffle of clothes against his skin is enough for pain to come lancing up his arm and Hijikata sighs, more in a need of oxygen than to let out exasperation. The hilt of his katana scratches his palm and he feels like his hands are bleeding uncontrollably; a glance downwards disproves his notion. The Joui group around him doesn't seem to catch anything amiss, and takes his distraction as a moment to lunge at him, three of them at once. Hijikata twists his left leg, spinning with it and slashes the first man across the torso, then stabs forward to impale the second and switches his sword with ease to his left hand, slicing the third man about the shoulders in a backhand sweep while taking the sword of the man in front of him to fill his empty right hand. Holding one sword forwards and the other in reverse, ignoring the bloody scratching against his palms demanding he just drop both blades, he lunges forward towards the four remaining terrorists in front of him. Two are cut down as he pivots on his right foot and spins, the remaining two jab for his stomach and his shoulders; he slices through the first in a shredding outward motion of both blades and uses his shoulder as leverage to drop the remaining man with a sword down his throat. 

Various wounds tainting his skin, form drenched in crimson and dull eyes holding a red glow to the blue, it's obvious to anyone who looks at him that this is the demon of the Shinsengumi. He's forgotten about leaving any rebels alive, and forgotten the paperwork will be ridiculous, all that matters at the moment is whether or not his bloodthirsty hunger is sated, but he realises that's a bottomless pit soon enough and can't bring himself to care. Someone calls out from the armrest at the raised path above him, "Hijikata-kun-" is as far as they get before Hijikata's kicked the two blades out of their sheaths from the man below him, catching one in his teeth and kicking the other exactly towards the voice with enough force to see it impale. Only the owner of said voice manages to avoid that just barely enough by deflecting it a few inches with his bokutō because that's all he has time for. With a sword clenched in his teeth and two others in his hands, uniform barely torn but dyed in blood, he must've been quite a sight to the natural perm. And he knew that's who it is, because nobody else carried around a damn wooden sword as if it wasn't a toy. "Oi oi you shouldn't go impaling your friends like that, what if Gin-san had actually been stabbed? What would you have done then Vice-commander-san? Would you take responsibility?" The voice grates against his nerves but he can't pretend he has something to do since he's surrounded by corpses, so he drops the sword from his teeth and the other he'd picked up, sheathing his own after slicing outwards hoping that would shake off some of the blood. Gintoki isn't talking anymore, though his eyes are fixed on Hijikata's movements. His voice tears against his throat from inside, but he manages a quiet, "What do you want, Yorozuya?"

"I know how that feels."  
"What?" He asks, because what the _fuck_ could that natural perm know behind those dead-fish, disinterested eyes? What could he know when the bastard sat around reading JUMP all day with no job and no decent hobbies? What could he possibly know about the Vice-commander of the Shinsengumi who really had too much work under too soon deadlines, who worked day in and out by sunlight or by candlelight just to fight off the clawing feeling of uselessness that settled in his stomach with the lack of motion? The sugar addict didn't have a sadist maniac trying to assassinate him fifty times a day as a subordinate and an indecent gorilla without a single shred of shame as a superior, and didn't have to still maintain a semblance of order among the utter chaos from both directions. 

It had changed a little, a few weeks ago, but he was still expecting a bomb to appear in his uniform or a late night call from a bar that Kondo had passed out in. He was still expecting his office to be blown to bits or a sword to come slashing through the wall, and a screaming bunch of cabaret girls dragging a drunk naked man to the office to turn him in for indecent exposure and attempted assault. There were days he'd furiously deny that to be his boss and others where he'd swear up and down he was seriously ill and ask them to forgive the Commander. But somewhere he knew Gintoki might understand, though he didn't know every detail he would've liked to, he did know more than most about the man, and it was his past of the furious name 'Shiroyasha' that induced the strange admiration he held for him.

"I know what it feels like to lose yourself to your sword's ceaseless craving for blood", is the quiet response, left swirling with the flecks of carnage in the air around them, and it's clear in the words that Gintoki is telling him he doesn't have to answer. His burning eyes widen, but the possible lie in the other's words bites his tongue hard enough that he can do little more than look at him, every emotion that he'd been draining crashing in a tsunami onto the shores of his blood-soaked, hollow blue eyes. It occurs to him fleetingly that he must look vulnerable, and the snarl draws his brows together as he pulls away the sensation from his skin and empties his eyes remorselessly. Though he hasn't been looking particularly, the panicked flush that contorts Gintoki's features makes him wonder if the man had anxiety attacks sometimes, or flashes from the war that left him breathless and in tears at times he couldn't predict; and denounces that even if he did it couldn't be very often because if any of his hordes of friends had seen such a thing they would be much more careful with him. Hijikata considers asking if it's that very war driving the insanity in his eyes right now, and is still trying to dissuade it as not being his place to ask when shivering hands grip his wrist and bring it up, sugar-tinged breath escaping into the air between them. He doesn't complain about the pressure on his hand, just stares at Gintoki, still draining away his eyes in silence.

"Stop that", is the choked whisper that curls around his neck, glinting off his skin and ruffling his hair. The twitch of his fingers must have conveyed his confusion and Gintoki speaks again, desperation creeping into his voice, "Stop- stop dousing that fire in your eyes, please, _please_ , Hijikata!"  
At any other time he would've shot back asking the man where he'd procured a dictionary, but mute silence is the only thing he could offer right now. It's a flash of his light that makes him suddenly able to see a fell chain connecting their throats and a billowing beast of shadows digging it's nails into Gintoki's shoulders, but then it's gone and he tries to believe he'd imagined it.

Testily, he lifts his free hand to brush where the claws had torn through pale skin and the other's breath catches, eyes widening. "H-how?" Is the coughing question, and Hijikata briefly tells himself shadowy monsters don't exist and he couldn't have seen one, before asking, "What is it?" And Gintoki yanks the leather of his shirt so the zip slides down and the sleeve is off his shoulder. A thick, jagged scar taints his skin and Hijikata ghosts his fingers over the area as the other mumbles, "An Amanto, during the war. It's my darkest scar."

"And it hurts when you're panicked?" The question comes out more as a statement and Gintoki bites his lip before letting out a dry laugh. "It's ridiculous how you understand." And Hijikata desperately wants to say he doesn't, say he's nothing compared to Gintoki and his bright hair and brighter aura, drawing everyone in with his presence, but he does understand _this._ Even if he had the aura of a dead man without a soul, he could at least understand the blinding pain of wounds time did little to heal. A spear of pain shot across his visual field, and he clenched his teeth darkly.

"Why are you panicked?" He asks, more exhausted with just standing than with talking at this point, his eyes were stinging and his legs were barely holding his frame up. Gintoki doesn't answer immediately, Hijikata considers leaving quietly, but he knows the feeling, he knows what caves inside him when he just can't find words to describe or explain anything he might've liked to say. The creak of wood draws his gaze to the clenched fist around the engraved 'Lake Toya' on the bokutō, and Hijikata tries to decipher the expressions, but sees little past the hair shadowing his face. "Will you go for a drink with me?" Is the question that replaces all his guesswork as to what the natural perm would say, it definitely wasn't this. But, he reasoned to himself that drinks couldn't be so bad, they were something of friends by now, the title of enemies serving as a ridiculously old front; and so he accepts with a silent inclination of his head. Gintoki has places to be and people to take care of, and Hijikata was craving a warm enough sleep to wash away some of the fatigue in his body. "I'll come find you at the Shinsengumi next Friday, keep it free for me", the silver haired man says, and Hijikata nods again, feeling the fingers around his wrist unclamp and move away. The frigid night air quickly cuts through the warmth their forms had left, lingering on the drifting promise.


	3. Quietude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Run, run, they'll catch you if you trip  
> Jump, jump, they'll catch you if you fall  
> The phantoms of your past are waiting for you all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly less angst please relieve yourself from tears here :)

Quietude  
Sakata Gintoki/Hijikata Toshirou

He hears from Sougo that Kondo's given Hijikata the day off, and feels himself smile when he realises it's because he'd said he'd keep the day free. There's an extra spring in his step when he tells Shinpachi and Kagura he won't be back till late and trips out the door after trying to set his perm straight for the fifth time. The two barely care, only tell him not to waste money and go back to what they were doing. He scratches at his hair and manages to get away from Zura before he can eat away Gintoki's time. 

He watches the police car sirens follow the terrorist and sighs, shakes his head and turns back to the Shinsengumi barracks. He finds the dark-haired man fairly easily, he's standing at the entrance with Sougo and talking silently. Well, Sougo is, he's nodding passively and occasionally putting forth a remark. Gintoki finds it different to see him in a casual blue yukata, the colour of the ocean, and begins to wonder why he didn't wear these clothes more often instead of Shinsengumi uniform. The yukata is tied with a dark purple obi, off which his sword hangs inconspicuously, like it wasn't the destructive flash of blood-coated horror that he'd seen last week. 

Hijikata's eyes flick up, but he doesn't move. Sougo, however, notices his momentary distraction and turns his head with half a snarl on his lips, only to drop that to his neutral indifference when he catches sight of Gintoki. Grinning and walking up, he slings an arm around Sougo and jokingly asks, "So? Whatcha talking about?" The sandy blonde shrugs, "This and that. I hear you're taking Hijikata-san off somewhere?" It's meant to be a question but hardly sounds more than a scoff, and Gintoki gestures with his free hand casually, "Yeah, I thought I should hang out more with Hijikata-kun, since he doesn't appear at the Yorozuya like everyone else." Kondo steps out of the room behind them, arms crossed and a rough expression set on his usually cheery face. "Toshi, if we cut in the front of the building, should Sougo's squad surround or enter from the back?" 

Hijikata's voice is silent, tired, and much quieter than he remembers, "Leave those strategies, if it leaks to them on a day before the raid they'll have forewarning. Use the sixty fifth plan from my folder and make adjustments on the day of the raid."  
Sougo stands quietly, eyes on Kondo, pleading for him to say something to get a ruse out of the Vice-commander but Kondo shakes his head and turns to Gintoki, "Be careful and don't take Toshi somewhere inappropriate." Then as an afterthought he adds, "He's never enjoyed those things." Gintoki nods, too shaken up with the fell atmosphere to properly respond, and removes his hand from Sougo's shoulders. A silent beckoning gesture over his shoulder is the most considerate he can do, and the shuffle of sandals behind him indicates that's enough.

Hijikata doesn't ask where they're going, doesn't ask what they'll be doing, doesn't even ask why Gintoki had called him out of work. This serves to calm some of the nausea swirling from the thought he might have to give an explanation he doesn't have. It's still sunny out, hardly past noon, and Gintoki glances at the sun briefly before averting his eyes to shield the burn.  
"'re ya actually albino?"  
He's shocked, and forgets how to speak for a few minutes because he was completely sure he wouldn't have to. He fumbles for his voice quickly and replies a, "Yeah, far 's I know. Didn't know my parents." Hijikata nods slowly, and turns his eyes back to the gravel road. It's surprising how easily words he doesn't say to anyone spill from his lips at the first genuine question from Hijikata Toshirou. He expected that least of all, expected maybe it would be Shinpachi or Gran he'd confide in first, if they caught him in a bad state on a bad day; but here he was calmly telling the dark haired Shinsengumi officer everything he usually bit his tongue on. 

Though he knows it's pressing, and probably rude, he's compelled to ask, "What about you?" The other seems like he isn't going to answer, his eyes remain on the road and his walk doesn't slow, but his tongue pokes out to wet his lips and Gintoki knows he's going to speak. "Clearly I'm not an albino, but I knew my mom. My dad died before I was taken into that family", his voice is soft and silent, like every word had the power to shatter glass in all directions, and Gintoki picks up with conviction that those words _had_ indeed shattered the glass mirrors of his heart, throwing debris beyond the scope of his vision, and that was what it was in his eyes when Gintoki could swear he saw shards in that gunmetal sea. This information gripped him, causing him to purse his lips but Hijikata would say no more. They'd come far from Kabuki district now, and he caught the Vice commander's upper arm by way of stopping him. "I'm taking you to a respectable place. It serves alcohol and decent food, and you probably know I don't have too much money but I didn't play pachinko yesterday so don't worry about it", he says reassuringly, pointing to a dark tiled roof over grey painted walls and a thick mahogany door that slid along merrily on swinging hinges.

Hijikata nods and Gintoki lets go, turning towards the shop with the other's rustling footsteps behind him. The sound is comforting, it's quiet and monotonous, nothing but a reminder that he isn't walking alone through bloody haunting shadows anymore, and that has a soothing effect that brings a smile to his lips. Just existing with the other was enough, talking, breathing, silence, presence, just knowing he was there. His steps became more measured, keeping pace with Hijikata and revelling in the warm feeling of the air they walked through. A soft tune strung through his vocal cords as he pushed open the door, greeting the familiar smile of the owner and choosing his usual seat near the counter, watching Hijikata slide into the seat next to him and look blankly up at the menu painted above. 

"What brings you back here Gintoki? I haven't seen you since you were here complaining about your lack of girlfriend", the woman gives him a knowing smile, casting a glance at Hijikata and back, "Have you and your friend come to bitch?" There's no bitterness in her voice as she finishes cleaning the counter and pushes the cloth into a drawer. Hijikata answers, "No, I have nothing to bitch about." The woman is quick to shoot back, "Oh ho, your friend already has a girl huh? What about you Gintoki?" Hijikata flicks his piercing gaze to her smiling russet orbs and answers quietly, "I don't, but I don't care for one." Gintoki sees the nervous flash as the brunette lady turns to him, but doesn't miss the flush on her cheeks and grits his teeth. 

Hijikata's hand clenches under the desk and Gintoki reaches over to pry his fingers apart and hold them away from his palm before offering a teasing, "The both of us are very much single Miss, we're just over here to get lunch and some saké." Her laughter rings along the room as she slides over smaller versions of the menu for them to look at and goes to bring out some liquor. Gintoki doesn't let go of Hijikata's fingers once, and glances through the menu knowing already what he wants. The dark haired man takes a moment to look through the variety of choice before he's settled on some foreign dish of sizzling fish and tartar sauce, and Gintoki knows a foreign shop was the better choice on his part. The clink of cups against wood is met by the soft tone of Hijikata's deep voice as he orders and she smiles, before turning to Gintoki, writing already before he manages to say, "Pancakes with chocolate sauce, of course." 

She disappears once more, after pouring sparkling liquid into their cups and offering a final, welcoming smile. Gintoki downs it in one shot and pretends he hasn't, watching Hijikata sip slowly without a word. "D'ya want somethin'?" He asks, without glancing Gintoki's way, and the latter puts his cup down quietly and props his elbow on the counter, resting his head in his hand, "Yeah, I emptied my cup. Would you mind?" Hijikata sighs and puts down his own half filled cup, picking up the bottle and pouring carefully, arms poised in a striking resemblance to Kyoushiro or Tsukuyo, and Gintoki realises again with conviction that there are times when the man is forced to work in the host club. As much as he dislikes it and doesn't so much as smile for the women he serves, he's ridiculously popular any time he's there. Though Gintoki has worked as a host too at times, the other had not, thankfully, caught sight of him working at the okama bar.

He's suddenly curious how the other would look when cross dressing, with his long lashes and perfect hair, but there's something else he wants to ask, "Hijikata-kun, where are you from? The countryside?" The other sighs, downing the remainder of his cup and propping his cheek on his palm, "Yeah, m'from the country. Why're ya askin'?" Gintoki swirls the liquid in his cup and shrugs, "Your accent. It's a different dialect though not completely. I like it." His dark haired companion offers no response, only reaching for the bottle to have his hand stopped, because if Hijikata was pouring for him he might as well return the favour, as terrible a job he did as a host.

Again, there's no animosity or even confusion as he tips his arm and refills for the other before setting the white bottle down with a faint tap and glances upwards in a mock smile. He's never been good with words, and though right now he would so much love to have a jesting yelling idiot's flushed drunken threats, he's ridiculously overjoyed that he was accompanied at all instead of being turned down flat on the spot. He doesn't have the voice to say thank you, doesn't have the courage to say sorry, and doesn't have the right to ask him where his broken pieces lay in the dead wind, and wonders bitterly if they were in salty drops of tears like his own. His own disgusting resolve usually fell apart with tears streaking his pale cheeks red, eyes stinging and mouth burning and he could've sworn parts of his soul had dropped away with the tears and hell, if salt had taken it away then maybe sugar could give it back? 

Hijikata taps his hand once, glances at his vibrant eyes and takes in the emotion momentarily. The tap turns to a light scrape of the nail against his bony knuckles but he wants nothing more than to flip his palm and clutch the other's delicate fingers in his own, because he _understands_ dammit and Gintoki wishes he were good enough with words to convey his simple aching gratitude. Waves of chilled emotion rile through his blood as he downs the liquid again, flicking his tired gaze up to the owner of the shop as steaming plates were placed softly in front of them. He knows what pancakes taste like but he couldn't, for the life of him, ever remember it after he was done eating. Clapping his hands in surprising time with the other, two sets of chopsticks snapped wood as they broke apart and were spun to comfortable positions between the fingers of the two men.

Drowning his food in the chocolate sauce he was brought, he cut pieces off slowly in attempt to ration it so he could have it for the longest time. As he eats, he turns his head and gazes at Hijikata, savouring that he wasn't itching to leave. Truth be told he probably wasn't longing to stay either but if the words could be twisted to pluck strings in Gintoki's chest then he sure as hell would twist them. He barely even takes note that the woman is replacing the empty bottle with another one, realising they had probably finished it with little thought. "So how do you get your hair set perfectly like that?" Hijikata glances up, finishes chewing the piece of fish he'd put in his mouth, swallows with a bob of his throat and then rests his palm on his cheek again so he could look more comfortably at the person he was talking to, "I don't set it, it's just like that." Gintoki hums, thinking of something to say but his attention snaps back with the comment of, "I'm a police officer, d'ya think I have time to set my hair?" And he laughs, softly, reaching out his free hand and pausing briefly, "Can I touch?" Hijikata shrugs by way of affirmation, and cuts another piece from the fish, dipping it briefly in whatever sauce that was and putting it in his mouth. 

Gintoki lets his fingers graze the raven hair briefly to gauge a reaction but there was none, only curious eyes staring at him and he reached a little to bury his fingers in the soft locks and tousle the hair slightly, still revelling in the fact that his hair was as goddamn soft as it looked and that certainly was not fair when he was stuck with a mess of a perm wishing for straight hair. Hijikata's gaze moved up, combing through his hair, and back down to rest on his face before turning towards the food once more. Gintoki smiles, his fingers not leaving the other's hair, and almost squeals like a girl when Hijikata shifts his head to lean into his fingers, because _hell_ when did the demon vice commander become so _adorable?_ Gintoki watched raptly as Hijikata opened his mouth, frowned, closed it, and reached for his cup of saké, sipping it again before murmuring, "My hair...used to be longer." 

He lightly presses his fingers in the hair as a sign to continue and sighs in relief when he does, "Used to tie it up like that Yagyuu girl." Gintoki marvels at the strands between his fingers, "Why'd you cut it then, Hijikata-kun?"  
He fiddles with the ends at the nape of his neck and smiles at the soft sigh he receives, along with the quiet words of, "It became a sign of the yakuza or Joui patriots to wear hair ties, and it was a reminder of...ah..." His words trail away into the empty space, and his eyes turn distant so fast Gintoki is scared he's going to lose him, so he clutches at the back of his hair gently and presses his fingers there, "Reminder of what?"  
"...Mitsuba."

The name was enough for Gintoki to know he'd absolutely stepped on a mine, and he had to do something or all this luck he was having with talking to the Vice commander would blow up faster than he could order a parfait. But there was a morbid curiosity, why didn't Hijikata talk about her? What had happened? All he knew was she was Sougo's older sister. Gintoki curled the locks he was playing with and idly murmured, "I've never been in love you know? I've loved before. Shouyou-sensei, Takasugi, Zura, even Sakamoto, and now there are others I treasure but I've never been in love." Even though Hijikata knew he was the Shiroyasha, and him announcing his ties like this could get him arrested, he knew if he was arrested for that it wouldn't be by this policeman. 

Maybe little by little they could get to know each other, maybe he wouldn't be scorned for anything, maybe he was only thinking this because Hijikata was so similar to him and still so much better. "She...wasn't disgusted by my eating habits, she didn't cry when I rejected her or beg me to stay when I left, she didn't even hate me for being as cold as I was when I saw her again. But through all of those she smiled at me, laughed with me, and she loved me like nobody else ever has", the words pour from his mouth slowly, cautiously, like he was expecting a hard slap to the face but Gintoki merely pushed his half-finished plate a little, listening with all his attention, "I didn't want to burden her with my death, and I had always been 'Baragaki Toshi' which was bad enough, and she was already so ill my burdening her with love only to have either of us die would've been cruel. All those years, and she never got better. She and Kondo-san are the only ones who cared for me, though I don't deserve either one bit" 

Gintoki's heart wrenches, because if losing ones you held dear had given him the ridiculously empty soul he had, then what would it be like to lose someone who held your heart in their hands? He moves his fingers down to cup the other's cheek softly, using this to turn his face so Gintoki could look him dead in the eyes when he said softly, "Count me in that." He's met by warm breath against his face and a quiet, "What?"  
"Count me among the idiots who care for you, you dense moron."

Hijikata scoffs, but colour tints his cheeks as he refills Gintoki's empty cup and finishes off his food just as the silver haired man finishes practically drinking the remaining chocolate sauce, being careful to keep his hands free of it so he could pet Hijikata's hair some more later. They both down another bottle of liquor before they pay and leave, Gintoki silently crying at the pinch to his purse but also glad he'd been able to do something at least. "So, ah...tell me about...Shouyou, your teacher right?" Hijikata asks, because that's only name in Gintoki's list of people he'd loved he hasn't really heard from the man's lips before. Gintoki sighs softly, steering the other to the park so they could sit for a while, even though it looked like it would snow soon. 

Though he's refused more times than he cares to remember to say a single word about his teacher, he finds it easy to tell Hijikata that Shouyou had saved him from the barren corpsefield wastelands, had taken him in and cared for him, taught him rules and principals and vague academic things he only remembers partially. Shouyou had saved him and given him a spark of life and a home, along with friends he could laugh with and for a time the world was right. His voice sputters and dies when his story approaches the wartime, and he clasps his hands and sighs out misty breath. Hijikata leans over and pries his fingers apart, noticing the red crescent marks imprinted on his skin that Gintoki hadn't even realised he'd been making. "The war was...a bad time, I s'pose. You don't hav'ta talk unless you want to", in silent comfort, he slipped his cold fingers into Gintoki's pale palm, squeezing slightly. The first snowflake touched his silver curls as he answered an honest, "Thank you, Hijikata", a smile adorning his face. There wasn't a thing more he had to say, no pressure to keep going, no decisions he had to make with this man, just a soft reassurance of camaraderie, and a gripping desire to see him smile for real and his eyes light up with colour and life.

\---

The snow stings his skin, and he makes no attempt to keep any part of himself warm because maybe the freezing cold could numb his sensation enough not to feel the constant feverish dizziness, growing tiredness and heady nauseousness shuddering through him. Gintoki shivers, somehow melding a breathy laugh with the movement and turns Hijikata's hand to lace their fingers, and strangely it doesn't feel like sandpaper scraping away at him, it's warm and comfortable. Gintoki raises their joined hands to his mouth and blows warm air over the skin, sending a rush of sensation skittering up his arm. 

Hijikata honestly doesn't want to talk, it hurts his throat and his chest and leaves a ripping feeling in his mouth, scratching at his tongue and the skin of the inside of it. Gintoki raises his carmine eyes with gentle inquisition, drawing a sigh from Hijikata's lips. "...it hurts when I talk", he admits, expecting a look of pity for how pathetic that sounded but Gintoki only smiles wanly, "Overdose still affecting you?" This instigates the raise of his eyebrow, a controlled frown of confusion splaying across his features and Gintoki runs a hand through his hair, "...you don't know?" He offers a shake of the head as a response, and there's a purse of peach lips before he's answered with, "The doctors at the hospital gave you too much painkiller and the symptom for overdose is that you'll feel pain heightened for three to four weeks after. I guess that's two weeks or so from now?"

Hijikata's scowl deepens and his wandering gaze settles on the white crystals of frost on his sandals and bare feet, longing for his uniform leather boots for once, as he tries to believe what he'd just been told. "Don't tell me you've been thinking that you're childishly feeling pain that isn't there? Are you serious?" Well if seriousness was involved, yes, he did believe all his meaningless pain was probably a reflection of his slowly faltering mental sanity, that he was being unreasonable and childish, that he'd get used to it. His cheeks are pressed against a thick white cloth and he registers the warm fingers in his hair as Gintoki's, feeling the sound in his throat as he incredulously murmurs, "Vice-commander-san I honestly can't believe you sometimes." 

To be honest a lot of the time he can't believe himself or the fact that he was still alive at all, but maybe this time it really wasn't his fault. "You serious about this medicine thing, natural perm?" The scrape of his throat is harsher than the ash of three packets of cigarettes on his worse days. He receives a hum in response, and the man's free hand wraps around Hijikata's waist without a single care who'd be watching, and there's no form of gratitude like this. Moist breath fans the top of his head then the back of his neck as he's pulled closer, but the closeness is reassuring. Just the touch, just the feeling that another living breathing person was here and the proof was ghosting on his neck, it was wondrously comforting. Like an anchor to a ship he was definitely sinking away from.

Gintoki's fingers thread through his locks absently as he hums the tune to a postal service commercial that Hijikata remembers from passing by an electronics shop, and remembers that unlike him, the Yorozuya was free all the damn time and watching the commercials between reruns on the television was at times their most eventful task of the day. He scoffs, but also thinks for the first time that he'd do terribly in that position. True, he had switched bodies with the bastard at one point but that hadn't been for very long and was spent changing and rectifying the behavioural system, but actually being in a position where most of the hours of his day every day were free would crush him like an aluminium can. It's no secret that he does more work and keeps more order than any singular person he could name, and all this because the work was a constant in his life, consequences be damned. 

It was something to occupy his time and his mind, to keep him from drifting into his self loathing thoughts. It didn't even matter if the work was trying to draw meaning from Yamazaki's anpan exorcism, at least he had an excuse to scream his head off at the responsible person and kick him around as much as he wished. But now he couldn't do that anymore, now Yamazaki could spend his lifetime reviving anpan on paper and swinging a 'minton racket at street corners for all he cared. The Shinsengumi would progress, they had Kondo-san, Sougo, and Shimaru as well, Hijikata could fall back to only his responsibility and not the punishments for the lack thereof of his subordinates. Gintoki slows his hum to a soft rumble and asks under his breath, "I can feel you thinking. Mind telling me what about?"

He lowers his arms around Gintoki's neck for lack of anywhere else to put them and convinces himself that he could talk for this little while until he was alone again in his quarters. "The Shinsengumi. How Sougo's goin'ta punish them for slacking off when he himself is doing that half the time. How they're goin'ta handle the authority shift." The fingers pause, carding through his bangs softly and holding them away from his face.  
"Then don't shift the authority, Vice-commander. Take a break and go back full strength."  
"I can't do that. I never could." With the added soft mumble of, "Why do you think I never take breaks?"

He's referring to too many times he's screwed up with his life because he just didn't have the right strength of character. How he was too cowardly to accept Mitsuba but too selfish to reject, how he was too quiet to become relied on but too loud to be revered, how he was too slow to stop Tamegoro from losing his eyes but too fast to stop his young fingers from murdering all the men there. How he never fit in with his father's family, how he busted dojo after dojo to pieces with its inhabitants and hadn't given a care in the world to those people, how-  
"Hijikata-kun, let me make you an offer?"  
"H...uh?"

"Take the next two weeks off. Stay with the Yorozuya, stay at my place. We don't have as much money as you guys but we're scraping by with the money from the last few jobs, and I have an extra futon and blankets stuffed in my cupboard. We could always just get Pattsuan to ask the gorilla if you don't want to go-"  
He tightens his hold on Gintoki's neck and nuzzles his cheek there slightly before moving away, the other watching his hands fall away from Hijikata's hair and waist.

"Is that a yes?"  
"Close as you'll get, bastard.


	4. Sentinel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dare to oppose the titles he gives, he knows they're absurd but he's absurd so they're just perfect always, and it's the fact that the other only looks confused and not offended that gives the warm glow to his grin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter :) Thank you to everyone who's read and left comments and kudos, I'm so glad to be getting your support :)

Sentinel  
Sakata Gintoki/Hijikata Toshirou

Gintoki had managed to convince Hijikata to come stay with the Yorozuya starting that weekend, which was a bit of a compromise since Gintoki had insisted he not go back at all. Still, the condition was that he get to talk to the Gorilla so here he was, with Kagura and Shinpachi arguing at his heels, at the entrance to the Shinsengumi compound. "How'd Gin-san get to this level?" He sighs, scratching his head and crossing through, spotting a plain looking officer scribbling furiously in a notebook by the centre of the compound, and is stopped from raising his voice by Kagura tugging his sleeve, "Gin-chan, are we going to kill the sadist today? Did Toshi hire us Gin-chan?"

"No Kagura, you see poor Toshi's been fed too much medicine and he's very very sick, and you know the Gorilla and Soichiro-kun probably don't know how to deal with it so Gin-san's letting him stay with us out of the goodness of his will."  
"Whoa! You're so caring Gin-chan!"  
"Gin-san, how do you know he was..."  
"Overdosed? Pattsuan, didn't you see the amount of bottles? Isn't that ridiculous for just painkillers?"  
"Well, I suppose it might be but-"

"Ah, Jimmy-kun! Jimmy-kun come here a minute!" His voice springs around the buildings and Yamazaki shoots up to come closer, yelling, "My name isn't Jimmy! Why are you even still using that name?!" Shinpachi sighs, in perfect understanding of the ordinary man in the vision of his ordinary glasses. Gintoki, however, ignores that statement entirely and continues, "Jimmy-kun do you think you can point to where the Vice-commander's room is or are you unable to do even that? It's okay, there's no need to be ashamed-"  
"Ashamed of what?! I'm perfectly capable of navigation and his room is over there! That's the back door!"

He offers a mock salute, traipsing along with Kagura and thanking whatever Inugami there was that Sadaharu wasn't practically chewing his brains out. Shinpachi calls out an, "Oi! That's trespassing Gin-san! OI!" Which he promptly ignores, slamming open the backdoor Yamazaki had pointed to and turning to Kagura, "I'm counting on you to guard the room as I kidnap the princess, general." The yato girl replies solemnly, with a firm look set in her young features, "Leave it to me, captain!" The veins in Shinpachi's forehead strain against the tense skin as he screams at them, "Why are we criminals now?! What princess?! Are you a kidnapper?! Is Hijikata-san now a princess?! At least say prince dammit! And who the hell is the general and captain of what organisation?!"

Gintoki once again lets the words weave in and out of his ears as he jumps over the patio and strolls into the room casually, "Oh princess, prepare to be swept away by your beloved!"  
Hijikata merely arranges a stack of papers into a pile and goes back to reading another sheet with scrawled handwriting. Miffed at being ignored, he stomps his way to the desk and pointedly slams his hand against the wood, "At least _respond_ , princess!" He's met by a confused gaze too tired to fully know or care what he's saying, and a lowering of his pen onto the sheet accompanied by a quiet, "...I'm the princess?"

Gintoki sighs exasperatedly, moving behind Hijikata and resting one arm on his back, shifting the other to pull his legs over the side of the chair before picking him up by the backs of his knees and savouring the bewildered embarassment he's met by. Normally he'd be executed for doing this, but Hijikata was probably so exhausted and drowning in pain that he wouldn't do anything. And so he was right because he receives no protest as he carries Hijikata to the open backdoor and jumps through and down the patio to where Kagura stands in salute. "Captain! Where to now?"

"To tell the princess's dutiful father and brother we're taking her from their oppressive hands and need Jimmy-kun to deliver belongings later." The answer is prompt and honest, he doesn't even have to think to play around with words anymore; he feels Hijikata's cheek tip against his upper arm and swears he didn't used to be this cute. "Why am I the only one without a new position?!"  
"Then, you can be the princess's dog."  
"A dog? You've made me Hijikata-s...hime's _dog_?!"  
"Take it or leave it, Jimmy."  
Shinpachi seems thoroughly out of it at this point, muttering something along the lines of 'I don't even know where to start calling out.'

Kondo lets out a strangled cry as the door opens, and outright yells when he sees Hijikata in Gintoki's arms bridal style, the latter with a face like it was the most normal thing in the world. The bright haired yato girl salutes again, "We greet you King Gori! We'll be taking the princess till she's all healed!"  
The only thing that passes his lips is a weak, "Toshi's male though!" And Shinpachi's vein ticks harder, " _That's_ what you're worried about?"  
Kondo knows that Sougo would probably murder the lot of them on their feet for a ridiculous stunt like this with Hijikata's condition both physical and mental, and has never been more glad that the boy was probably sleeping on patrol somewhere. Gintoki grows impatient and makes a show of lifting the uniformed Vice-commander closer to his body and altering his position to dip the other's face and touch his cheek in an extravagantly theatric pose, lamenting, "How much longer do you intend to keep us apart King Gori! The princess's heart calls to me!"

Kondo really finds no words in his throat, stammering and stuttering over a confused set of syllables before glancing to Shinpachi, who looks about ready to explode, and then sighing against his papers. If anyone really could keep Hijikata safe during his recovery from the side effects, then it would be the Yorozuya and no one else. In grace of his friend's dignity he mutters, "At least call him a prince." His tone is resigned enough to convey that he isn't protesting anymore, only still confused beyond his bananas. Surprisingly, Gintoki complies, "Alrighty then, we'll be taking off with the beautiful prince now, good day Gorilla king and Jimmy-inu." And he's shimmied out the door with his raucous company before Kondo can so much as open his mouth to retort. Yamazaki shoots him a terrified look as Sougo traipses in the back door of the office, and he's thanking all his stars that he had come exactly after they left. "Kondo-san, where's Hijikata-san?"

"He's going to be staying with the Yorozuya till his overdosage wears off, Sougo."  
"Overdosage? Are they making this up for money? I sure as hell am not paying."  
Kondo shakes his head reassuringly, patting the young boy's shoulder and repeats, "No, didn't you notice? They'd been feeding him too many painkillers. I forget the effect." His brown haired friend was still unconvinced as to why the Yorozuya would come to steal away someone without the promise of money or anything free, but he couldn't state that he doubted Kondo because he really didn't, and his patrol for the day was over. Well, in his books anyway. Without a reason to go out or any way to ask for permission, he really had no way to try to venture into checking on his superior and cursed the fact that he didn't have a convenient excuse like cigarettes; just the stacks of paperwork he would have to do without dumping on Yamazaki, who already had to do part of Hijikata's.

Gintoki opens the door to the Yorozuya before setting down the other man, who'd stayed limp in his arms throughout the walk, but neither Kagura not Shinpachi had commented until they'd reached the door, following which the two had immediately run to the kitchen; Kagura to eat and Shinpachi to stop her. Hijikata's legs shiver weakly, and he isn't sure whether this is fatigue or anxiety, only that he has to slow it and act as if nothing was wrong. Gintoki watches him raise a hand to the wall and clutch the wood hard enough to turn his knuckles pink but without damaging the wood very much. It reminds him of a time past when Katsura would tug the strings of his ponytail but really just press the thread into his palms with his nails so in would hurt, but not damage. He would do that whenever Gintoki and Takasugi got into particularly bad fights, when they ended up scowling from across the classroom for weeks leaving Katsura in the middle to figure out where to go; in the end he always gravitated to Shouyou-sensei and clutched his hand until the two were talking again. 

He decides maybe if he talks, about anything, Hijikata could listen to that instead of the voices in his head, "So what do you want to do, Prince?" He pauses, but something inside him clenches to remind him he isn't worth a reply for so pathetic a question, and perhaps if he talked a while more he might be given a few words as an acknowledgement. His teeth grit, it's not fair his countless experiences have to taint this with Hijikata and it's not fair the dark haired man had to encounter anything from his past. "Gintoki, can I...do you think I could just lay down somewhere?"  
"In a lazy sense? I didn't take you for the type to-" he's cut off by the expression on the other's face, and quick blinks to rid his eyes of the sheen they'd formed. 

Cerulean pools turn to the floor, and Gintoki moves forward but holds his hand back, knowing full well Hijikata might not want the touch, might not want to hold his hand or even feel his proximity so he backs off, offering a silent smile that told his companion to talk whenever he felt it. "I don't want to bring a...dampening atmosphere here, I want to stay out of the way far away, lock me in the cupboard or the roof if you want", are the words he gets, but the underlying message is that he doesn't want the joyous laughter and screaming of the trio to die down because of a presence like his and Gintoki knows what that feels like, he knows what it is to not want to ruin a mood with his being there, and wants really just to tell Hijikata that he was wanted _here_ , that even if he wasn't here he was all Gintoki could think about since that day he'd entered his regular restaurant to find it not reeking of mayonnaise.

Kagura trots out of the kitchen with sukonbu in her mouth, making a curious expression when she sees them still near the doorway and coming up to them with her brow furrowed delicately, "Toshiii are you feeling sick? Do you need to throw up? Should I show you bathroom?" She raises a deathly pale hand to his forehead, standing on her tiptoes on his shoes to reach there, and receives not a 'Who the fuck are you calling Toshiii?' But a ruffle of her hair and a quiet, "No I don't need to throw up, Kagura right? I'll...I'm just leaving anyway." He moves away gently, picking her up by the waist and setting her down by Gintoki before stuffing his shaking fingers in his pockets and moving to the door. 

The same panicked rush floods Gintoki and he glimpses that Kagura might have been about to hug his waist and probably scream indignantly, 'But you're sick Toshi! Let us take care of you!' But he beats her to moving, slamming the door shut and pulling Hijikata straight to his chest, plucking at the hem of his uniform jacket while his thoughts pieced to words, " _No_ , no you're staying here and here only for two weeks. In my room, I'll show you, you can smoke all you want and you don't have to talk to anyone." Kagura's eyes widen and she mutters to Shinpachi, who'd just gotten out of fixing the mess in the kitchen, that Gin-chan had never allowed her to be in his room, or even Shinpachi himself for that matter.

Hijikata has a thousand questions at that second, flashing past his flickering gaze but Gintoki tries to convey that he doesn't want to talk in front of the two younger people in the room, because they're so delicate and so young and don't deserve to toss and turn at night, visualising and being haunted by his experience-influenced panic and his unusual sudden attachment. It isn't the protective older brother kind of instinct that turns even fatherly at times, it's a clawing feeling that rips him apart if he doesn't move, if he doesn't try to shield Hijikata from thoughts he can't take away and he's never felt this way before. Not ever, it agitates him, but at the same time he's guiltily enjoying the new emotional instincts it threads through him.

"Hijikata-san would you like lunch? Have you already eaten?" Shinpachi's kind voice breaks the optical conversation they'd been having and Hijikata turns to his feet and stands up, lingering against the fabric of Gintoki's shirt for just a moment and wishing he could stay longer, "No, that's alright, I'm not too hungry at the moment, Shi...mura? Ah, I only properly know your host name Shin. I'm sorry." He offers an apologetic smile, leaning against the frame of the closed door and fully aware of glossy red eyes on his skin. Shinpachi smiles and adjusts his glasses, "Shimura is my family name, just Shinpachi is alright."  
"Shinpachi is the glasses not the person alright Toshi? The person just comes free with the glasses, okay?"  
He blinks, then raises an eyebrow and half his lip in a mock amusement as Shinpachi turns to scream at her, "The person is Shinpachi! _I'm_ Shinpachi! The glasses are just another pair of lenses on a frame dammit!"

Gintoki scratches his head and yawns, "Pattsuan, Kagura, stop arguing before Gin-san starves to death. Vice-commander-Hijikata here might not be hungry but I certainly am."  
The boy stomps off mumbling about ungrateful friends and broken glasses while Kagura announces, "I'm going to feed Sadaharu", before promptly moving inside the Yorozuya living room. Gintoki then turns to Hijikata, and feels the compulsion against his burning throat to say, "I'm sorry I touched you without asking." He doesn't mean just right now, he means all the times before and during the last few months, and he means the softer, presence confirming touches more than the punches and slashes of his sword, because those he wouldn't apologise for.

Hijikata braces one of his heels against the wall and leans his forehead forward that little bit to touch Gintoki's shoulder, which normally wouldn't be so easy because of them being the same height. He looks down at the dark locks of straight hair and has the itch in his fingers to touch it but hitches a breath to stop himself when Hijikata says, "What're ya apologising for? I should apologise for making you feel like you shouldn't've." Cold, trembling fingers reach out after Hijikata's tensed his arm four times without moving it enough, and he brushes them to the limp hand at Gintoki's side under the aqua swirls of his sleeve. 

Gintoki's eyes widen momentarily, but he immediately shifts his hand to brush his palm against the other's, warm fingers just making contact enough. Hijikata shuts his eyes in embarassment, and utter inexperience because he's never done this like he was supposed to, and moves the tops of his fingers through the gaps between Gintoki's, still shivering and trembling and feeling like an idiot all at once, just leaving his fingers in that half woven state. A heavy bell slams into the silver haired man's chest, resonating in waves of something sweeter than any parfait in his body and he smiles, so genuinely that he doesn't know if it his own twisted lips that make that movement, and presses that smile against Hijikata's hair because the visible part of his cheeks and neck had flushed a rose hue of red which meant he obviously wouldn't look up. The dark haired man needed to know he was the one who'd brought that smile to his face, nobody else. 

In a slow shift of his hand, Gintoki slides his fingers to lace them properly, resting his fingertips on the curves of the bones connecting his knuckles to his wrist, hoping he could warm the other's hands and maybe stop his shivering. He knew for a fact that Hijikata wasn't the kind of person who would shiver at all, so this was a side effect and he would try his damnedest to control it. Gintoki tries running his thumb along the outer edge of the other's index, slowly back and forth, silently lamenting on how the skin was so soft and smooth. He sighs in relief into Hijikata's hair when the trembling stops and even breaths fan his neck lightly. He raises his other hand, and pauses again, "Can I touch your hair?" And is unreasonably smiling wider when he receives a verbal answer of, "If y'want...I guess", instead of a half nod. Neither of them are very talkative, but Gintoki's served as a distraction for years and years, either by putting himself in the centre light to draw attention from others or by talking and singing inconsequential things he knows whoever is listening, if they even are, don't care about. His interests have always been vague to the point he can't even place quite a few, but he forced past his instinctive silence to talk about nothing for hours at least to keep the white noise as a distraction for the other person. As such, he's used to practically having a conversation with himself, getting short or no responses, saying a million things without anything in return, and something as simple as verbally responding to a question seems so unreal. He tries to let Hijikata know, wrapping his arm around the other's shoulders before pushing his fingers through the hair.

If he could go back to that time he had the universe's clock, he'd break it exactly now and live in this second forever with no regrets. But he's irritatingly human and his stomach growls, the plus side of which is the humoured scoff the other let's out, followed by Shinpachi from the living room calling out that lunch was ready and they had to go now before the starving yato ate it all. "Are y'sure you're not hungry?"  
"'t hurts to eat", Hijikata answers, swallowing with a slight tense of his fingers before nudging Gintoki slightly with his cheek and sighing cold breath over his neck before moving away, pulling their fingers apart with a short press to say it wasn't by choice, and walking in front of him into the room, jacket billowing slightly behind him. 

He leans himself on the desk at the far side of the room and watches Gintoki sit down and pick up the bowl of rice, eating a few mouthfuls absently, his unreadable eyes flicking around the room as he sets the bowl down and picks up the broth in another, smaller bowl to sip. Hijikata watches with aimless attention as he does this, interspersed with his casual conversation with the other Yorozuya members, and can't even wish for a domestic lifestyle like this. The Shinsengumi was a stress filled lifestyle, the only family he had would be either trying to kill him or stalking certain sisters of certain glasses-wearing-boys, but he didn't mind this. A job in the police was honourable, and he would follow Kondo-san, now not just to defend the country as his job, but because he wanted to protect its inhabitants. This Yorozuya family, the old woman who served him unhealthy amounts of mayonnaise with a warm smile, Kondo-san, the Shinsengumi soldiers, even Sougo.

He can't imagine a day when he was himself without being shot at, without having his walls repaired, without gruelling over paperwork for hours and hours, and a day on which he was greeted by morning smiles and the promise of a forever. Forever was his undoing, the promise he could never make because he knew he could die just like that and nobody deserves to lament over broken promises at his death ceremony. Hell, Hijikata can't recall a single day when he walked into the cafeteria and didn't pretend not to hear the simultaneous groan of everyone else there. That's probably way he started taking meals at his room more often. Gintoki looks up at him expectantly, and he looks back, noticing that he wasn't the only one, Kagura and Shinpachi were looking as well. "What?" He serves to ask, wondering what exactly he'd done in quietly standing by the desk, and if he was making them uncomfortable by watching them eat perhaps? Gintoki pats the space next to him on the couch, and Kagura smiles wide enough to show her teeth, while Shinpachi pushes his glasses up and voices, "You're a part of the Yorozuya as long as Gin-san believes so, just like we believe it. You don't need to stand there like a stranger, Hijikata-san, please, sit?"  
He feels the scraping scratch as he pushes away from the desk with his hands and walks to sit by the man, offering the words a, "Thank you, Shinpachi." The boy's eyes widen, clearly not used to any form of gratitude, and shakes his hands, "No no, no need to thank me."  
"Thank you, nonetheless."

Shinpachi leaves after sunset, with a smile and a bow saying, "I'll see you in the morning." Following which both Kagura and Gintoki change into their pyjamas. Hijikata is about to use that as an excuse to slip back to his room but there's a pounding on the door that Kagura meets with a, "We don't want milk!" Eliciting a nasal shout of, "Vice-Commamder! I have your clothes and bathroom stuff! Please open the door, it's Yamaza-"  
Gintoki throws open the door and grins, "Look here, Jimmy-kun has so sweetly brought Hijikata-kun's nightwear!"  
Yamazaki promptly ignores him and steps past his shoulder, holding out a small bag that he knew was Kondo's and saluting stiffly as soon as it had been taken from his hands. 

"Thank you, Sagaru. You can go back now", Hijikata says, turning around after that to enter the mirrored corridor and casting a spectral glance at the woman peeking through the floorboards of the attic before crossing the hallway and entering the shower area. Kagura calls out, "Be careful with the hot water, Toshi!"  
Which is followed by the sound of a door shutting outside. Hijikata leaves his dark yukata outside beside the sink, picking up his soap and other cleaning products before entering the shower area and shutting the glass door. The water cuts against his skin and, like Kagura warned, it's scalding, turning his flesh red in heat and he sighs, weakly leaning against the wall as the shower runs over him in rivulets. There's not much he can discern besides the frosted material of the door through his wet hair, so he moves his hands to the ledge he'd left his products on and then changes his mind and decides to just stand in the water for a while. To keep from passing out, he changes the taps to cold water, feeling the burn drip away from his limbs as he shifts his shoulders. The wall catches his back heavily as he collapses against it, letting the fatigue he'd been trying to ignore trickle weight into his body. Reaching out finally, he begins to wash himself of whatever dirt the day had left on him.

After seeing Kagura to bed and confirming that she would sleep like the dead till morning, Gintoki goes to brush his teeth under the haunting reminder of cavities and the dentist, which was even scarier than diabetes to him. He notices the yukata on the counter and turns absently to the door of the shower. The light allows him to see the dark silhouette of the man inside in breathless clarity, he's facing the wall to the right, giving a three fourths side view as he tilts his head back to wash his hair, hands raising above his shoulders and bent down at the elbows so his fingers rinsed the tresses. Nobody is really watching him so Gintoki can properly declare to anyone who asks that he's shamelessly staring. His eyes run down and up long, muscled shadows of the other's legs, one on its full sole and the other on just the toes, before he raises his eyes to the curve of his back and to his neck, that moves slightly as he swallows. 

The toothbrush in his mouth remains forgotten until the showerhead turns off and the figure reaches up to pull the white towel from its stand, wrapping it around his waist before opening the door, just as Gintoki begins to push the brush in his mouth, looking over as if he was just now noticing he wasn't alone in the area. His eyes sweep over the muscled chest before Hijikata turns away from him, with the yukata over his shoulders as he removes the towel and picks up the obi to tie it at his waist, turning back now that he was covered. Gintoki muses that Hijikata is well muscled, but not as thickly as himself, which gives him a slimmer, leaner feel and adds another aspect to his attraction. He isn't gruff looking by any means, his jaw is a soft tilt and his neck isn't stump thick, his arms and legs are strong and muscled but lean enough that the limbs stay slim, his torso is again, muscled but not heavily or disgustingly so and Gintoki marvels not for the first time that for a guy with near demonic strength in physical fighting when provoked, he certain didn't look the heavy-weight-champion to match the part. 

Perhaps that's why Gintoki's able to admit this is why Hijikata is so popular with women, his model-worthy body and attractive features, not to mention the irritatingly straight perfect hair that he wound never stop being jealous of. Hijikata brushes his teeth silently, and cleans his mouth and the brush before slipping that and his soap, shampoo and conditioner bottles back into the bag he'd failed to notice lying against the floor. He knows for a fact that the alluring smell of cherry blossoms and menthol is in his hair again, and he wants nothing more than to press his lips to it but he doesn't. He finishes brushing his teeth and cleans his mouth and brush before turning, feeling a gentle heat in his chest that Hijikata had actually stood there with his arms crossed, waiting. He watches with fascination as he doesn't pull out any secret hair drier or straightener or even serum to set his hair, but lets it dry in the stale fanned air of the Yorozuya shower room. Gintoki slides open the door to his room without pause for deliberation and is glad when Hijikata enters also without pause because he's really never been good at sharing personal space like rooms when he was sleeping or going to sleep. He reaches over to the cupboard and slides it open to pull out another futon along with sheets and pillows, laying it on the tatami besides his own, hyper aware of the scrutinising gaze that wandered to him between it's looking at everything else he had in the sparsely furnished space.

Hijikata watched as confusion flashed through the ruby eyes and somehow knew he was thinking 'how close is too close with futons?' Which elicits a sigh from his throat, and he almost smiles when he notices it isn't as stinging as it was last week. Although he may just be getting used to it. "Don't worry yourself so much, I don't care how close they are", he offers, and apparently his guess was right from the way the other's eyes widen and then lower, giving the bedding a final shift before tripping and falling with unceremonious purpose onto the one with a Justaway by the head. "Make yourself comfortable then, Vice-commander", is muffled in the pillow as Hijikata moves his hands from their crossed position and drops the bag by the sliding door of the cupboard before lowering himself onto the thick futon, gently enough that it didn't pain him too much. "You...really do look like a model, it's not fair. Can't you even sleep in some disgusting way?" Hijikata's eyebrows furrow at the whiny tone and he shifts his hand a little and moves his legs a little closer. "What's that s'posed to mean?" He really is confused, but Gintoki rambles on in the same tone after flailing away from his collapsed dead-man position, "I mean look at you! Arms all tucked up sideways and splayed near your face, legs raised at slightly different angles and your head tilted enough that it's not fetal, who do you think you are?! This is the kind of picture you'd use to create fangirls not go to sleep!"

Hijikata's rather miffed, but doesn't really know how to say he wasn't trying anything so he answers with, "This is a comfortable position to sleep in." To which Gintoki pouts and rolls on his side as well to face him, and Hijikata decides he's either drunk off the moonlight or the late hour to be babbling like this, not that he didn't appreciate the raw honesty in the words. A silence falls over them but it's not unsettling or awkward, just quiet, and Gintoki cuts through it with a quieter version of his whining tone, "It's not even fair that you're always damn attractive you stupid pretty boy. Not even just pretty, screw it, the girls all fall for you at first sight because you're _hot_. Or well, good looking as hell? Handsome? Fuck it." The only response he can give is blinking, trying his level best to suppress the heat flushing through his cheeks and failing very bluntly. Who even says such embarrassing things out loud, for fucks sake, Gintoki was definitely a million times bolder than he was. A fond smile crosses the other's cheeks and he reaches out his hand, which Hijikata stares at a while before reaching his own fingers to meet it and smiling as the digits interlaced with his.

"So how much does it hurt anyway?"  
"Depends on what I do."  
"Okay, talking?"  
"It's like...having to pass spiked nails through your voice box to be covered in barbed wire, before moving up your throat and destroying your wind pipe and coming out as regular sound. It's getting a little better."  
"Fuckin' hell, that's even worse than I thought; and I had my throat ripped a gash by an Amanto."  
He smiles, and Gintoki yawns, moving his warm fingers to practically cup Hijikata's hand and squeezing slightly before drawing back to his own body, the action mirrored by the other. It's only when he hears even breathing and occasional quiet snores and knows Gintoki's asleep that he allows himself to close his eyes, feeling the heavy burn and tears collect faster than he should've cared for, but it's been another long day just existing and he just doesn't have the strength to make it through unmarred. Soon the innocent tears turn hot and increase in number, wracking his frame in shudders and choking gasps as he bites down on the side of his hand to control any sound threatening to escape from him. His eyes widen as his breathing constricts and sputters, leaving his mouth open and shuddering to open further to get his lungs the oxygen they're heaving for. Hijikata remains in this state until the weight of his body is too great, slack against the sheet, and his eyes close to the will of rest and sleep.


	5. Somnolence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's he to say that heaving shoulders and ragged breathing is a sign of weakness? Who's he to deny the horribly weighted object pressing down to the other's chest? He's just someone who recognises the feeling better than he should.

Somnolence  
Sakata Gintoki/Hijikata Toshirou

It's on the same week's Sunday that Hijikata first makes a request. It's evening, and Kagura had invited herself over to the Shimura dojo to stay over the night as soon as she caught sight of a cup of saké in Gintoki's hand. He doesn't bother correcting her, that he still wouldn't get drunk since Hijikata still hadn't lit a single cigarette. They're sitting on the couch, watching reruns of a horribly sappy romance soap that normally would've gotten an earful of swearing and absolute horror at the cheesy lines from the dark haired man, but Gintoki doesn't pressure him to do more than sit as he is.

He's discovered, in this week so far, that Hijikata had a tendency to wash his face whenever he got particularly agitated, which his companion could tell by the small signs like the biting of his lip and breathing out as if it were smoke he was exhaling. "Yorozuya, do you think I could...ah, could I ask for some paperwork? I could get Sagaru to bring it over like he does my clothes if you don't want me to leave", Hijikata doesn't make eye contact, only presses the tips of his fingers together as he says this. It's a marvel how the man would want to do something as irritating as paperwork, just slaving away at reading useless reports for hours on end, half of which were probably just demonic anpan curses.

Gintoki goes on a whim and sidles closer, draping an arm around the other's shoulders to sound like a friendly advisor instead of a suspicious detective when he asks, "But why would you want to do that? You've got Gin-san here, Kagura too, and even Shinpachi for your otaku and megane needs. Regretfully he isn't the smart or cool part of that trope but glasses is practically his soul by now-"  
"Please", he's cut off. Hijikata doesn't flinch away from his arm or avoid his gaze, looking fearlessly at him. Hell he knew if the guy started pleading, Gintoki would probably get the damn paperwork himself while walking on his hands with a unicycle for entertainment. Yeah, he'd never seen Hijikata plead. At his searching gaze, another drawn out breath is released before he admits, "I need something to focus on, preferably boring and strenuous." But Gintoki doesn't move, only shifts closer till his alcohol scented breath is definitely hitting the other's cheeks but he receives no push still, only the even quieter addition of, "I can't sleep." It's like the lighting in the room has shifted because suddenly he's able to see the slightly darker rims of the other's eyes, the way he's blinking more because of how tired he was, the slump in his shoulders that's a fraction of an inch away from his normal posture. Something was horribly wrong about his sleeping pattern, obviously, and again, Gintoki _didn't fucking notice._

He feels like a dunce for not noticing, but then suggests something even more ridiculous as a cure, "Why not take you to the red light streets? Kabuki is the red light district, and I have people who would give great recommendations down in Yoshiwara. If you're tired out it could help."  
"It doesn't help if I'm tired, I've tried jogging before. And no thank you, I'm not interested in...red light shops."  
It's a vague reminder to a conversation he's had with Sougo but he was piss drunk and it was too late for him to register the words fully. Something about not being pleasured or pleasuring himself that Gintoki had dubbed a load of bullshit, well, until he'd heard it just now from the man himself. Or, heard it implied but the question was too personal. Hijikata's still staring at him, and Gintoki only downs his cup and watches as Hijikata stands when he places it on the table, picking it and the bottle up and going to the kitchen wordlessly.

He comes back with a small glass of something and stands by the couch on which Gintoki is sat blinking up dumbly. "It's strawberry milk, it'll lower how drunk you are and lessen the hangover", Hijikata holds out the glass to him and Gintoki plucks it from his fingers incredulously, before pulling him down and leaning into his shoulder with a mumbled thank you and a smile. Not in his lifetime had anyone given this much shit about him since Shouyou, sure people cared about him and made sure he knew it but it wasn't like this, they didn't understand him like this. Hijikata mumbles something in his wavy hair by way of a response and Gintoki downs the milk as well, relishing the sweet strawberry taste and the sugar rush heading through his body. He's almost skipping behind Hijikata to brush his teeth. _Skipping._

They've both showered and they brush quickly, proceeding back to the sitting room, where Gintoki drapes himself bodily over one of the couches and watches the other move wordlessly to the other couch, sitting with his legs and arms both crossed and biting his lip enough that he probably suspects it wouldn't be noticed. He desperately wants the man's body heat, or rather lack thereof and cooling feel near him without a single idea of how to obtain that since he was actually the one who'd idiotically decided to lie down. That leads him to make the next best decision, "Uwah, look at the time! Hijikata-kun, shouldn't we go sleep too?"

Hijikata's eyes turn to him, blank but acknowledging, and he stands and picks up the empty cup of milk, going to the kitchen to wash it while Gintoki sets up the futons in his room. As a test, he decides to pull the two exactly together so they almost resemble a huge bed, hoping maybe that would get a jolt out of Hijikata. But the man in question enters the room as casual as before, and lowers himself onto his futon even more casually, as if he didn't even notice anything was wrong. Suddenly Gintoki felt like he had idiotically humiliated himself, but says nothing, if Hijikata was alright with this then maybe he'd made a misjudgment thinking this would get a reaction, still he had to ask, "Hijikata-kun, are you alright with the futons being this close?"

The other doesn't even look up as Gintoki lowers himself onto his own bed, "'s fine with me." After those words, he falls silent in the darkness of the house, leaving the silver-haired man to determine if he was actually asleep or just quiet, since he couldn't even see his face. Still, he could see the rise and fall of his shoulders and his own breath evened to match it, but every time he closed his eyes they would open almost of their own will to stare at the back of the Shinsengumi vice commander. The ticking of the Justaway continued through the hours, as he tried to drink in every detail of this exact moment and hour. Everything was silent, outside was dark, nobody was screaming behind him for rent or compensation or fine, and he wasn't alone this time. Normally, at times like this he'd give up his pride to watch children's cartoons and pass the time so he wouldn't be enveloped in the pressing emptiness that brought to life vivid nightmares, no, memories and played things to the backs of his eyes too fast but too slow, words and flashes of silver speeding through his vision but the hot sting of tears still raw to his touch. _Normally._

He isn't sure if this is normal anymore, because he's too friendly with Hijikata and he's too close but maybe that was because they were similar? Because he could protect himself? Because Gintoki wanted to protect him? Not a single nightmare had jolted his frame in the hours since he'd begun sleeping in the same room as him, and he isn't sure if he's offering or receiving comfort. Somehow, today, he can't sleep. It's a vague sense in his vague mind, like floating pinpricks of light in a pleasant countryside river, but he can't sleep. It's not so much his not being tired, that hadn't stopped him before, but the feeling of the aura he got from Hijikata, like that pleasant countryside river was being fed by drops of thick red blood that reflected the sun to look like rubies in the water. 

Gintoki decides he's morbid as hell, not for the first time, and decides not to care, not even for the second time. The analogy is perfect to him. The hours pass on in feigned darkness as he waits for his body to adjust its clock so he can sleep already, regretting his choice of a four hour afternoon nap. The Justaway tells him it's 3 am when he hears it first. A shuddering, gasping cough so soft he doesn't know if he's really heard it. He almost writes it off as imagination but Hijikata's shoulders he'd been tracing outlines of were shaking slightly. In the dead silence of the night he's able to hear the drop against the pillow; he wouldn't have been able to had it not been so quiet. 

He almost believes the dark haired man is having a nightmare, almost wakes him up to ask what and if he was okay, but when Hijikata raises his hand to his mouth that Gintoki can't see, it hits him that he's _awake._ A strangled, desolate sound rips the other man's throat and dissolves into the skin of his wrist, the remnants of its resonance echoing to the marrow of Gintoki's bones, fuelling a desire to reach out and say something but he's frozen. He stays wordless, motionless, for so long he goes stiff and his eyes stay wide, lips begging him to form a word but not a thing gets past his throat. He wills his body to move, something, even a little, _anything,_ but it _refuses._ It refuses after it's cooperated with him to fight insanely strong people while half dead, it refuses when it has agreed to push the limits of even being human at times, it refuses now in an empty room on a bed too far to reach Hijikata.

He continues screaming at his mind, and the choked sounds and soft drops followed by sheets rustling almost sound natural but it's in a surreal quality to Gintoki's eyes, the man' practically dying, collapsing, falling to pieces in front of his useless carcass of a body that refuses to _move dammit._ His limbs only work again when he's tipped over the edge of desperation, when he hears the horrifying, thick sound of flesh ripped by teeth, and his mind knows Hijikata is keeping quiet for him, is so close to screaming in agony but instead bites his own skin through and _fuck,_ he's going to smash the bones of his hand. Was this everyday? Had he slept through it? Did Hijikata wait for him to fall asleep? His entire frame stiffens, but it moves and practically lurches towards Hijikata, stopping at his hair and ruffling it with a soft breath. He wants to move forward, hug him, move back, leave him alone, comfort him, not disturb him, a jumble of this and that where it should be either or.

He's never seen the vice-commander plead, yes, but the expression of a profile partially obscured by dark bangs with tear streaked cheeks and eyes clenched shut is the closest thing he's ever seen to that, and maybe he was being selfish but he wanted to hold Hijikata, hold him close and give him the physical comfort he knows neither of them have had. He's never heard it from the man himself so he could be wrong but his language and responses to physical contact say he isn't familiar with it being comforting. Gintoki's voice is muffled by sleep and the thick air around him, as he doesn't try to stop his gasping, "Hijikata?"

He receives no response, only a slight freeze and quieting of his crying, dark liquid seeping past the wound only to have the owner tilt his hand so it flowed without touching anything into his mouth. Gintoki knew it was probably disgusting, slightly sweet and cutting and starched with an aftertaste of metal. He feels something clog in a part of his chest he was sure wasn't meant to do more than function instead of collapsing on him, so he tries again by a different name, "Toshirou?"

He breaths the syllables softly, tasting them as if the word is his newest strawberry parfait, but with a bated anxiousness that came with the question of _what if he wasn't supposed to say that name?_ At this Hijikata's eyes shoot open, his head turns, and his focus settles on him and him alone. He offers what he hopes is a comforting smile as a start to helping the vice commander, but the man looks horrified and jumps back and out of the futon, scrambling till he reaches his cupboards and the frame wracks as his back rams against it. " _Gintoki_ ", the voice is ghostly, conveying its meaning of pleading screaming cries of _no, no you weren't supposed to be awake and you weren't supposed to hear or-_

" _Toshirou_ ", he calls back into the silence, the words sounding like an anchor weight infused with his hope that Hijikata would be okay. Gintoki creeps closer, sliding against the floorboards until he's in front of the other, not daring to touch him in any way, keeping his eyes fixed on the features of his face for any emotion he could read. Gintoki knows by experience that there are phases to breakdowns, and that one of these phases is in which you become horribly vulnerable and open, willing to tell everything to anyone who asks, and usually this is only the first time a person breaks down. Subsequently, this phase only calls to be held. He also knows that following this phase is a putrid loathing to do anything for anyone, including himself because why should he? Was anyone aware to his crashing and burning soul? Of course not. Now he knows the source of Hijikata's bitter mornings till he's had his coffee. 

He shouldn't be happy to have caught Hijikata in this phase where he isn't bitter yet, but vaguely he is because even if it's him, somebody needed to support this man and pull him together and hold him while he cried, admire him while he laughed. There isn't much he can do by way of pretending he hadn't found him like this, because he's already too deep in a different direction because of his own sleep-deprived worry. The last thing he'd wanted to do when he'd met the Shinsengumi vice commander was to worry about him. On that lowly rooftop, seeking revenge for a commander he had no knowledge about, all he had wanted was to be free of the man's incessant demands for a fight, to finish his damn job and get paid, maybe grab a parfait on his way home. Nothing, apparently, ever goes in his way because place after place and time after time he began running frustratedly head first into the same dark haired nicotine addict, had discovered more odd quirks than he cared to know, and eventually, begrudgingly, begun to care for him. 

Easy to accept was the last thing it was, he'd rebelled against the thought for too long, tossing and turning and cursing at the policeman and his piercing blue eyes, but accept it he did. He was just as much a part of Gintoki's life as Gintoki was of his, the insults were more a habit now, a riling of spent agitation in playful spirit, nothing of a heavy meaning as much as that was impossible to garner from looking at them. Hijikata is still looking falteringly at him, not moving, still shuddering and heaving like an impossible weight is settled on his chest, but he looks vulnerable. There are a thousand expressions Gintoki has seen on this man but this still knocks his breath out. He looks _scared_ and practically _at his mercy_ , which in itself should not be, because this was the man who carried the flaunting title of the Demon Vice Commander of the Shinsengumi, yet nowhere in his life had Gintoki seen something so resembling an angel with broken wings. And Gintoki has seen _an actual dead angel_ in a TV screen who ripped her own wings off.  
"Hiji-", he pauses, that name isn't right, "Toshirou, do you want to come here?" His arms open slowly, invitingly, laying bare all his intentions with a clear conscience and a concerned smile.

Hijikata doesn't respond, his breaths are shallower and slower now, as if he's afraid to disturb the air Gintoki has created, but he keeps his arms open, with full intention to wait out the answer. The tensed shoulders of the other slump down, his back sinks a few inches against the cupboard, his hand props him up until he's no longer against the fabric at all and Gintoki smiles, knows his eyes soften in fondness. Hijikata resigns against his ego, visibly deflates in acceptance, attempts to even his halting breaths before giving up vainly and steeling his nerves. Legs thrown up in front of him while he was kicking back, shift to his side to brace him on his knees in a half crouch, muscles flexing reflexively, his eyes shade briefly in a final bout of defensiveness that's thrown off quickly, and he moves forward slightly, slowly, but it's enough to twist Gintoki's chest because its one thing to offer comfort and entirely another to be this _accepted,_ this _trusted_ by someone. 

Hijikata stops when he touches his knee but that's invitation enough for the Yorozuya, who crosses the short gap and brings him into an embrace with arms that are finally listening to his will. He doesn't drape his arms around the man or loosely lay them about his shoulders or his hips, though he'd love if he had the self control for something like that, he simply isn't able to do less than the clutching pleading strain that he is, holding on tightly to the other to a point where he isn't sure anymore who's comforting whom. His left arm is pressed heavily at the elbow into the jutting bone of Hijikata's hip, the palm clutching at the small of his back a ways off from his right hand that is strung over the man's shoulder to rest between his shoulder blades. This is a proximity on a level of intimacy he's never had before, sure he's fucked people but it never felt intimate and sure he's hugged people but never like this, never this heavy and bodily and possessively. Hijikata Toshirou is a beautiful man, can you honestly blame Gintoki for wanting him to himself?

\---

If there were a comparison to describe what this hold felt like, then the instantaneous answer would be like chains. However, Gintoki's embrace on him is nothing like Kondo and Sougo's tearful wrench, is nothing like Mitsuba's gentle touch of affectionate comfort, it's unique and it's demanding. Not demanding in a way he's uncomfortable with, Gintoki is simply asking for proof that he wasn't clutching onto a corpse again, that he wasn't desperately yanking a blood-soaked body closer to his chest, and Hijikata's breath curls over his neck in a confirmation, giving the exact proof he needs. The hold on him doesn't loosen, and though initially he'd merely had the wind knocked out of his lungs and wished for it back, he realises that the other man is worry-stricken, that this midnight paranoia was induced by him and Gintoki didn't have to hold him, didn't have to step closer and utter his name fearlessly in the dark in a way nobody but Mitsuba had ever called him, his name was Hijikata, demon vice commander, Shinsengumi dog, Mayora 13, but never so intimately had it been _Toshirou_ across the Yorozuya's lips and that in itself caves a part of him he didn't know had been aching amidst everything else. 

He isn't uncomfortable anymore with leaning against Gintoki's shoulder in silent acceptance. Most moments in days past he'd spent dreaming of a sleep so deep he wouldn't feel the rusted scrape to anything he moved, but even when he caught sleep it was light and fleeting and too short by fear. Not only did he wake up as early as the Shinsengumi's clock, he forced himself out sooner so that he'd be decently somber by the time Shinpachi came pounding at the door with wake up calls or the robot maid from downstairs blasted the door down with a tuned lilt to her threat for rent. Gintoki never bothered waking up when Shinpachi and Kagura did, Hijikata had observed this multiple times, and it was something near hilarious the methods the man used to get out of bed. Oh, if only. Today, he doesn't wish to be drowning, he doesn't beg to be asleep, he prays in his heart with fervour that he'll be able to feel these arms around him again.

The air in the room is chokingly still, lifeless if not for Hijikata's shaky breaths and Gintoki's shuddering gasps of relief. He links his arms around the fair-haired man and leans closer, feeling the arms around him tighten by way of a response. They sit in silent comfort, and neither are fully aware of how much time has passed because the desire not to move permeates everything else. Gintoki moves his lips in soundless words against Hijikata's jaw, smoothing out his fingers against the fabric of his shirt as he does so. It feels like ripples of warmth splay out across his skin from that point and though he tries, he can't control the flush of heat and, accompanied colour that spreads across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

Gintoki lets out a soft, cheerful sounding chuckle and lets the sound reverberate against Hijikata's skin as he nuzzles into his cheek. He can feel the blush darken under his skin and grins a little, fingers moving to pull Hijikata's arms down and said man letting him, albeit confused as he did. He feels the other's slightly bigger hands cup the backs of his and hold them together. He doesn't have to speak for it to be understood he's suggesting they go back to sleep. Warmer than he probably had been in too long, he follows compliantly and doesn't bother glaring when the grip on his hands doesn't loosen until they've both settled down and are close enough that he knows the other will wake up if he so much as coughs. He doesn't plan on moving anyway, and falls asleep pleasantly with the skin of his jaw remembering fiercely the brand of Gintoki's lips and the voiceless statement:

_"Thank you for accepting me."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally decided to go back and add summaries to everything pff so you can check that out thanks


	6. Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lull in the tense air that puts me to sleep, past the warmth of your words and the song your presence sings to my heart. I'm falling, falling, falling, but I can't be allowed. How much longer will I be allowed to listen to your haunting tune? This is the calm before the storm that I wish would never come, but it well, oh we both know it will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been putting this off SO LONG damn I'm sorry but here finally a new chapter don't kill me if it's really bad I'm sorry

Lullaby  
Sakata Gintoki/Hijikata Toshirou

The internal clock of the Shinsengumi Vice-commander never chipped hours, and he was thankful that he continued to wake up at that time; he didn't know what Shinpachi would say if he saw Gintoki and himself curled around each other evidently comfortable through the late hours. Gintoki, however, frowns a bit more in his sleep when Hijikata gets up and leaves, miffed at the emptiness in his arms but uncomplaining nonetheless. They have their own routines, getting up at different times, eating different things, that is if Hijikata remembered to eat or not, speaking in different tones and going about their own lives under the same roof. Just that way, Shinpachi and Kagura have their own routines as well, concerts, meeting up with friends, going out for a walk or to check on someone, and the entire place reeks of freelance.

Hijikata supposes that's what the Yorozuya do, obviously, they're freelancers with no fixed job so their work could encompass anything, from cutting down a black market organisation to picking a kitten from the twisted branches of the tree it'd clambered up to. On some days, Hijikata would accompany them to whatever job they were doing, casual clothes and without cigarette, though Gintoki knew he kept a few packets and a lighter anyway. He'd contemplated buying another mayonnaise-bottle-shaped lighter for the man, but decided against it since it would be purposeless. Hijikata spends his hours completing, checking and rechecking his paperwork until Yamazaki stops by with a new bunch that seems to be getting lighter every time. None of the Yorozuya members disturb him, they even keep their volume at a minimal when they notice the concentrated furrow of his brow.

Even so, one tiresome day that had been loaded with work on both sides saw them collapse into the futons and each other's lifeless limbs too much later than normally, they were indeed seen. It wasn't quite as scandalous a position as Hijikata himself had caught them in once as he woke, but it was scandalous nonetheless, and possibly even incriminating depending on how extreme of a closet fujoshi had opened the door. The stunned silence was thick and dank, Hijikata had been jolted the minute he'd heard the door slam open and rattle against the hinges but he found himself immobile at the same time. If it were known that he was awake and allowing this, it'd probably cause a bigger fuss than if he just pretended to be asleep.

Gintoki, however, insisted at this moment to cuddle closer to the Vice-Commander, sliding his hand up from his lower back slightly and pressing closer. Hijikata was so so grateful that his cheek was pressed into Gintoki's chest, shallow breaths tickling the bunched cloth. The Yorozuya had wrapped a leg around both of Hijikata's and tangled them tightly, and here the bastard was, sound asleep and practically unconscious as the dark haired man flushed at the breath against his hair and Shinpachi stood like a haunted statue at the door to the room in a state of thorough shock. "Shinpachi, what's going on? Did your marbles roll away? Did your brain fall down again? I can pick it up for you Shinpachi, just as- Gin-chan! Toshi!" Kagura's jaw dropped as well, and though he heard the clack of her jaw, Hijikata couldn't see her face and had no idea what she looked like at the moment. It probably wasn't remotely attractive. As the two stunned teens stood unmoving, Hijikata prayed for an excuse to get up, anything at all would do.

The excuse comes to him in the form of Gintoki himself, who shifts and plays with the ends of Hijikata's hair before yawning, "You really did Gin-san a favour not upping and leaving in the middle of the night, Hijikata-kun."  
"8:30 in the morning isn't night", Hijikata mumbles, pretending its only muffled in the man's shirt and not by his embarassment. Gintoki winds his limbs more comfortably and rubs his eyes with a mock frown, "Of course it is! Anything before 11 is the middle of the night to me. Even men need beauty sleep you know? Gin-san is trying to maintain his natural good looks don't you understand?"  
Hijikata doesn't even respond, he's still reeling under the repeating though of _'They caught us they caught us they saw us they caught us'_ , and Gintoki raises an eyebrow before leaning closer to press his forehead against Hijikata's, the latter swearing up and down he could see Shinpachi and Kagura turning ghost white and that colour rushing to his face. 

"You look like you have a fever but I can't feel anything, is your fever temperature different Hijikata-kun? Should I go borrow a thermometer from the old hag?" Hijikata refuses persistently to answer as Gintoki brings his fingers up to splay against his cheek and two fingers of the other hand to touch the pulse at his neck.  
"Gin-san isn't a doctor so maybe I should ask Pattsuan. Speaking of which where is that boy?" At this he gives a final squeeze and allows the mortified Hijikata to flop back onto the covers while he stands, raising his voice, "Pattsuan! Kagura! Oi do either of you kno- oh well if you're right there say so sooner, don't make me scream."

It's a miracle how he doesn't understand why they're both practically ice statues at his point. "What? What is it? Do I have something in my hair? Hijikata-kun can you check my ha-"  
"Your hair is fine natural perm, they...'ve been here a while."  
"Oh", Gintoki says dismissively, as if he's being told the daily news. Hijikata sighs quietly and then he glances back at the other two members of the Yorozuya. Suddenly they spring up, rushing to their leader as Kagura throws herself on him bodily lamenting, "Gin-chan! Why didn't you tell us you were being all romantic with Toshi? Did you think we'd be mad? Gin-chan you need to tell us these things we're family!"  
Added to by Shinpachi's stern lecture of, "Next time make sure not to forget to mention something so important. Neither of us will judge you at this point Gin-san, so you should learn to be more open as well. Hijikata-san, you too, why haven't you said anything?"  
Then Gintoki understands what they've perceived of the situation and while the breath is being squeezed out of him he gasps, _"Oh."_

When they finally let go and stand looking expectant for an explanation, Gintoki looses a fib, "Shinpachi-kun, Kagura-chan, you misunderstood. The truth is Gin-san-"  
Hijikata cuts him off to twist whatever lie that was going to be, "-Is a cuddle bug in his sleep."  
The low chorus of _'ohhh'_ confirms that they did actually believe him, because honestly with that personality it was nothing out of place. "Oh well then Toshi, tell me if you get annoyed okay? If Gin-chan squeezes too hard or kicks you in his sleep tell me okay? I can give you my room and sleep here for you."  
He can't suppress a half smile as he ruffles her hair with a thank you and goes out of the room past them to brush his teeth. He writes it off as his imagination that both younger residents of the Yorozuya looked disappointed by the truth of the situation. 

There's an odd feeling in his gut, like four heavy screws were embedded in him, two at either side just above his hips and the other two on either side below his upper abdominal muscles and he's being pinned by them, carrying them against gravity when he stands and lesser so when he sits as if they're trying to pull down and only settling when he lies down and they weight him to the surface. After he's freshened up enough to look ready for work, though he isn't going anywhere, he goes back to the living room where sure enough the natural perm is scratching his head, toothbrush sticking oddly out his mouth. With a brief roll of the eyes he drops himself next to the other, since the excess space had been an obvious invitation. Gintoki grins at him around the brush and leans back against his shoulder as he watches the weather, tugging Hijikata's free arm half around his waist. Deciding to humour him, Hijikata just tightens his arm as a response and settles to the drone of the weather woman and her ridiculous horoscopes. His eyes widen when he realises he's thought that he wouldn't mind more mornings like this. He cannot be allowed to become lazy and accepting, there was work to be done and he still has his job if nothing else.

Between his mulling thoughts, Shinpachi brings out a breakfast that's quite lavish for the Yorozuya considering they were being paid by the Shinsengumi to take care of Hijikata. He wonders if this is why Gintoki had decided to bring him here, but decides against it when he watches Gintoki throw his brush into a bucket and gargle with water from a glass before picking up his bowl as if it were even less interesting than his toothbrush. He says a cursory 'thanks for the food' before beginning to eat without a single care in the world, eyes glued to the weather lady. Kagura and Shinpachi are still looking at them with suspicious eyes what with their position but they don't comment on it. 

With Hijikata's terrible luck, just as Gintoki drops some rice on the hand wrapped around him, Yamazaki slam open the door fully ready to make a report and salutes stiffly, exactly in time to see the perm head bring Hijikata's pale hand to his lips and lick off the rice. Of course Yamazaki becomes a blushing, stuttering mess and Shinpachi looks like he's just been outwitted. Kagura, however, blinks stupidly at them as if she has no idea what's so surprising. It's blatantly obvious why Yamazaki was ridiculously confused but Hijikata ignores that, "Sagaru, you're here to report?"  
Gintoki whines in addition, "Then report already goddammit, and go away, you're disturbing my weather commercial and my breakfast."  
"B-but Hijikata-san you're not going to punish him? He- he just- but what-"

"I'll get up and kick you out if you don't have anything important to say!"  
Gintoki mock snarles, but it's enough to scare the simple spy. Once his throat is clear he announces the report with almost no inserts of the word anpan in his sentences, and then produces fresh clothes and a meagre pile of reports. "Is crime slow?"  
"N-no sir, why do you ask Hijikata-san, uh, sir?"  
"I've been getting less and less work."  
"Musta been the gorilla eh, Hijikata-kun, don't bother Jimmy here with it, he probably feels ashamed to say it out loud yknow?"  
"I don't need to hear that from you, damn BL character freeloading perm head!" Yamazaki screams indignantly. 

Apparently the only thing Hijikata wants to comment on is, "BL character?"  
Shinpachi flushes red and adjusts his glasses, "You don't want to know Hijikata-san. You're better off not knowing actually, you're our show's only clean character who doesn't make inappropriate jokes."  
Gintoki scratches his head, "Okay you made your report and gave him a change of clothes and paperwork now can you leave already, you've given Gin-san a headache Jimmy-kun."

Yamazaki makes an annoyed huff that's probably more hostile than it should be and more remnant of Mountain Zaki than he should be in Hijikata's presence, but leaves nonetheless. Gintoki just laces his fingers with the other's, sets the bowl down and picks up the latest JUMP from the table, flipping off the television much to Kagura's apparent chagrin. Though Hijikata enjoys this life in its own way, this isn't his life and he won't say it but he does want to go back, so at least then the pain will only be his mentality not some crazy wrongly administered drug, he just wants this to be done with. Everything he does is a riveting ache of painful stabs that jar him far more than they should and far more than he can handle; it's all he can do to remain upright and functioning at this point past the ridiculous effects of this 'medicine'. 

He doesn't give it enough thought to let the influence run ropes through his brain like Kubinashi's red threads and just hopes it wouldn't rush over in a wolfish stream as Ryuji's devouring Garo. The thing he's probably most guilty about is feeling like he wants things to stay this way with Gintoki, despite knowing its only because he's unwell, and he's condemned himself a thousand times for it but a moment is too long and he's caught up again. Gintoki's a heavy tide, a glittering light, a guiding star, he's someone who people follow and listen to and love, just because of who he is and how he acts at his own free pace sweeping everyone and anyone along with him unintentionally. That knowledge does nothing to calm his restless nerves, and he doesn't have to check to be aware of his nervously rising pulse. He wants to be able to say he would drag this on as long as possible, be sick for longer, keep himself here more, but he'd be lying if he did. He knows full well he'd take the first chance he gets to go back and bury himself in work until he's able to be as comprehensive a Hijikata as is considered normal.

The two weeks are up too soon, he hasn't gotten enough time to know that they are and doesn't notice being held back longer, wishes Gintoki would hold him closer during the nights but tries not to be close, he knows it's not his place. Gintoki is warm, inviting, comfortable, eyes glittering and smile shimmering, but it's not his or even remotely so, he'll be gone soon and the natural perm would move on as if a swirl had been removed from his yukata; indifferent. He forces himself to believe all this is a culmination of camaraderie, that he's only doing this because they were something of friends and nothing of any form of closeness. 

He doesn't know if he can comprehend that, doesn't think it's possible, doesn't believe it's probable. He walks out on the final day after a sleepy hug and a sleepier smile in the morning, thanks Gintoki and tells him to thank the others, and tries to give his own most welcoming smile since it'll probably be the last of this caliber they share. He knows without seeing that the Yorozuya had gone back to sleep, and though the drug has worn off his footsteps feel heavy and his vision is blurry. His mind is made up that nobody was tolerant enough to take his shit anymore, that if he stays in his imbalance anymore there will be consequences to his work, questions to his identity and he may even be asked to take leave to see a mental doctor; something he is averse to both _because_ of work and because he doesn't want a stranger poking around his business. His solution is simple. If he can pull himself together just enough to act the bare minimum of the Hijikata Toshirou that everybody dismissed, any attention he may have caught would sputter and die out faster than a candle in a thunderstorm. He doesn't ask if it's raining when he enters the Shinsengumi barracks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We can be friends if you got the Nurarihyon no mago reference


	7. Thralls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What we had can fall apart as easily as we've built it up, just like even the brightest stars can flicker out of existance. But quietly, quietly, without the flash and bang, without lighting up the sky.  
> Say, love, do we have to fall apart?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little tiny spark of hope that this slow build won't last forever pshhht

Thralls  
Sakata Gintoki/Hijikata Toushiro

Hijikata isn't sure what he'd expected to change. He would've settled for anything, really, to root him to reality while he fabricated one for everyone else. His voice still went hoarse because his yelling wasn't voluntary, it was necessary, and he drank a bit more coffee than usual to stay up and work. He also didn't get things right sometimes, he'd slip up and forget to comment or retort but not too many people noticed this or if they did, they didn't bother to point it out to him. Sougo goes back to trying to kill him; well, injure him now if he observed, his attempts were even more monotonous than they usually seemed to be. 

Kondo had started entrusting the barracks and the troops to him again, and disappearing to a location he believed he knew in a not-too-suspicious fashion. But Hijikata was alright with all of that; that was the life he'd been living and the company he'd been sharing and the least he can do by way of thanks for not firing him or worse is to give them the man they wanted. The demonic vice commander. It wasn't as difficult as he thought, perhaps only because he held on to the work and the words in the firm hope that on his next break he'd round the corner and spot Gintoki, and the man would beckon and curl into his side as they spoke instead of shooting a half-assed cuss like they used to. That flickering phase had to mean something, because to him it wasn't just a _something._

To him, care like that meant a world of things and he knew if anything was asked of him by the man he'd oblige unflinchingly, so he spends his months catching up on work and raids and filing, straightening the soldiers back up and screaming at them for their shortcomings. Which, surprisingly, they seemed to enjoy. He hadn't gotten back to the mayonnaise or his tobacco yet, not because he didn't crave or need them anymore, because it just didn't feel right yet. It felt like he'd be smoking because he had the cigarette not because he wanted to, and that was slightly terrifying to a man who probably had tar running through his veins at this point. It really wasn't to say he couldn't, just that when he caught even a whiff of smoke from walking through the streets he never associated it with himself nor urged to light up in the least. He still kept the lighter and cigarettes in his pockets out of sheer habit but didn't bother to buy any of a perishable condiment like mayonnaise.

It's a good few months later he musters up his courage when his mind tells him not to step out of line, and he's able to catch Kondo in his office on a rare occasion. Before he's able to convince himself against it, he asks in one breath if he can have a day off. His hands are shivering but in his pockets and out of sight, and Kondo looks up from his desk wide-eyed and slack jawed as if he'd been slapped. Then his face melts into a teary smile and he launches himself at Hijikata to hug him, sobs interspersing his words as he rang out a, "Toshi! You're finally depending on me enough to take breaks!"

He can't help the fond smile that crosses his lips as he pats his superior on the back, "Is that a yes Kondo-san?"  
The other pulls back and wipes his face to grin broadly and shove a thumbs-up at Hijikata's own face, thundering a, "Yeah! Leave the Shinsengumi to me and enjoy your day off!" He tries to muffle his anticipation in a sigh of relief; there's only one reason he asked for this day off. To find the damn perm head and go out for lunch. Something would've changed right? Of course, it had to have, too much had happened for Hijikata to just pretend it hadn't and gone about his business without a single feeling of remorse. Truth be told he'd been longing to see the bastard for as long as he'd been out of the Yorozuya. Even if he had to make up a request, he would go tomorrow. 

The anxious tug at his gut was being adamantly ignored.

Why he had expected anything to change was beyond him because his stomach tightens and his pulse races when he sees Gintoki across the street with the Shimura boy and he's met by a dead gaze and not so much as a grin. He feels like he's been rammed into by a truck but he crosses the street anyway, much to Gintoki's apparent chagrin as he grimaces and flicks something from his finger away. Shinpachi looks from Hijikata to Gintoki and opens his mouth in disbelief before closing it again, seemingly thinking better than to voice his thoughts. "Something you need, Mayora? We're law abiding citizens here."  
Hijikata had the syllables half stuck in his throat as his jaw snaps shut and he's shivering all over again because **that face is devoid of a single expression,** let alone anything close to what he'd seen earlier. He doesn't even seem to care particularly _at all._

Hijikata shouldn't have expected a damn thing to change but he _did_ and it _hadn't._ He shuts himself down faster than a clam, snapping off all the emotions he knows are cloaking his face and streaming into his eyes and allows his mouth to twist into a snarl, spitting out a, "Nothin', natural perm", before he shoves past them both and as far away from the area as possible. He ends up at the outskirts, still fuming and upset and angry at himself because why the fuck would that Yorozuya ever smile at him and touch his cheek and hug him. He's furious at himself for believing in that and for actually procuring a day off for this bullshit when he should've been working responsibly- _fuck it,_ he needs a smoke _now._

The warm tingle the cigarette leaves against his lips and the gentle haze that clouds his mind helps a little, and he lowers to sit against a particularly thick tree and lets his head drop between his knees. Pulling out the scented cigarette he exhales the smoke in a low puff and angrily bites back the stinging in his eyes because he will not cry over some crap like this. While earlier he just hadn't cared, now he was just so ridiculously angry he thought he'd set himself on fire. But at the same time, he's accepting, he knew this would happen and he knows he's an idiot. Taking another heavy drag, he waits for the nicotine to dull his senses enough to stop the throbbing in his skull that's driving him mad. That's the last cigarette he takes before he throws the rest in the river and storms back to the barracks.

Sougo sees him at the entrance, and raises his bazooka only to have Hijikata slice off half the barrel in rage before he's past and still almost _running,_ eyes blazing and heart thudding painfully. It's like he's being strangled at the same time that he's breathing too much and his throat is clogged with polluted air. His room is empty, quiet, and he doesn't know how to express how loud that is to his ringing ears. He pulls his futon out despite the urge to just collapse at his desk after beating something up. He doesn't do either, he takes a deep breath and forces his rage into a mental scream that doesn't get past pursed lips while he fixes his bedding and sheets and pulls out a softer yukata to sleep in. He's loosely tying the waist piece without anything to cover his chest when there comes a knock at the door so quick and agitated it can't be anybody but Yamazaki. "Sagaru get the fuck out of here, I'm on holiday today so go ask Shimaru-nii", The other gapes, frowns, closes his mouth and lets his gaze linger more than he should before he closes the door leaving Hijikata alone. Loosely pulling up the sleeves he drops himself unceremoniously against the blanket and hopes it's the worst dream he's ever had.

 _Of fucking course it's not;_ he wakes up with a pounding skull a few hours before the morning meeting and realises he'd slept the entire previous day but doesn't particularly care. He freshens up in the empty bathroom and empty shower area before he's back in his room with a towel around his waist and taking deep breaths to calm down a little. It works, his headache subsides a little and his skin has warned considerable from the icy cold shower, finally he sighs and moves to his dresser, leaning against the door and bracing himself with a forearm. A little respite couldn't hurt. There's a knock on his door from the garden and he thinks it's Sougo, doesn't trust himself to give an answer firm enough to receive a death threat, and so doesn't answer.

His breath is warm against his freezing skin. "Toshi, it's me, I'm coming in", he doesn't protest, though he doesn't know what to say to Kondo either. The door slides open, he's still dripping water, Kondo stares briefly more out of surprise than anything. "Rather rare isn't it? To see you without the uniform", the man grins before perching himself on the edge of the work table. Hijikata turns to him, huffs in a mix of a laugh and a scoff once, and then pushes himself off the dresser and opens it. "I s'pose so, Kondo-san", his lips turn upwards as he fishes clothes out and dons his underwear behind the door before closing it and putting on the layers of his uniform with experienced ease. Kondo doesn't even look, he goes through the same thing anyway, instead he hums and taps his leg to a song likely from the cabaret club.

"Somethin' y'need?" Hijikata asks as he adjusts the cravat around his neck, and Kondo hums again in a gravelly, contemplative tone before responding, "People really are strange aren't they? Riling you up and then leaving you to chase while they forget", the deep voice reaches his ears and he turns his head, shoving one hand into a pocket while the other fastens his sword before resting against it. "Kondo-san...?" He questions, because it was rather rare to see him in a mood like that. So rare that as soon as those words are uttered, the wide grin slips over the soft smile and he's off again about his latest endeavour and falling off an electricity pole only to land in a cardboard box marked "Home sweet home" but empty. Hijikata does sigh, but he does so affectionately, perching next to his superior against the desk and only half listening to his rambling. He's smiling though, if only a little, and he's relaxed enough to close his eyes. This couldn't be so hard, this life was his and it was what he loved. A routine he's doubtful he should've broken at all, but in a way is glad he did because he now knows it isn't worth it.

Hijikata learns indifference is the key. That if you were apathetic, the burning scratching gnawing in your chest dwindles to a faraway pressure of an easily sideswept caliber. He doesn't learn it intentionally, he doesn't try to get rid of anything, he goes about his daily life, if a bit busier than usual and it comes to him unbidden. He finds he's no longer particularly interested in a variety of things he used to love, and not in a way that meant he didn't love those things anymore. Just that he didn't have the mood to love them as he had. He tries to pick up anything to do in his free time, and ends up stopping all those things even though he hates leaving anything incomplete. He still interacts, he still enjoys the quiet moments and cool evenings with coffee and the smell of the garden, he doesn't have to force most things anymore. But when he sits down one night and thinks of his feelings, he realises he's hollow; not empty or lonely, just void of the feelings entirely. He manages to push down things he might regret saying, makes real progress with controlling his speech, and feels a vast amount of creativity draining to the back of his mind. He knows he might not feel as strongly as he used to before, he also knows he doesn't care. Hijikata Toushiro isn't sure which scares him more.

\---

There's an unnecessary level of thinking involved in Gintoki's deciding what do to in the months since he's last seen Hijikata, but one thing is for sure: he isn't going to impose. Perhaps Hijikata had accepted his comforts only because he'd needed it at the time and that's what Gintoki chooses to believe because if he starts to think otherwise, there's a large amount of heavyweight boxers that start having a go at his chest. So he makes up his mind, after holding the phone up without the last digit punched in and walking by the Shinsengumi headquarters entrance more times than he cares to admit, that he isn't going to bother Hijikata further. 

He sees and hears that the man seems to be getting better, if the words of his subordinates are anything to go by, and he can't help the slight smile that plucks his lips up knowing he might've helped that. He hasn't seen the ebony haired man since that morning he'd left, and he knows that's because of work. But if Hijikata was getting better, did he really need him around? No, he hadn't even initially. Hijikata was the kind of person who'd push through just to spite anyone who doubted he could, but in a way that's quiet and discreet, like he himself doesn't notice what he's doing and who's jealous eyes are cast upon him. He's not oblivious, but he is rather unseeing at times. Initially Gintoki wants to bust through the Shinsengumi and steal up the prince once more, no doubt in his mind that Kagura would help him and Pattsuan would come along to nag, but he doesn't do that. He tries with every bit of self control he has and manages to not even enter the barracks at all. It's a twisted sense of satisfaction to know how much in control you can be of yourself.

It's that same sense of self control that grips him months later when he sees Hijikata across the street in a dark blue yukata and hopes he's imagining the man's eyes lighting up when he's spotted. He doesn't run to rough-hug him, doesn't go to ruffle his hair, doesn't even move. Hijikata doesn't run either, but he crosses the street jittering and Gintoki knows he's fighting a smile that isn't for him, _can't_ be for him. So instead of calling his name and yanking him by the wrist, Gintoki addresses him by an old tease alone and pretends he never was aching. Hijikata's face drops and falls and his jaw unhinges a little; he looks attacked. Shinpachi turns to him in horror and he doesn't look back. The seconds are tense before he can visibly see Hijikata's mouth twist into a snarl and his brow crease so heavily it has to be permanent. 

His eyes swirl with some kind of fire that Gintoki can't even _mistake_ as blame towards him, it's blame _Hijikata's nailing into himself_ and Gintoki can fucking _see him doing it._ He tries not to, he really does, but it's there and it's so apparent and Hijikata whirls around and is gone before he can get a word in. Shinpachi gives him an utterly disgusted look and doesn't even bother with a retort before he's gone as well and Gintoki's alone there, mouth half open with words that didn't spill and hands that shiver where they are. A drop falls onto his nose and creases to the pavement, he realises it's going to rain, he doesn't care. He doesn't move until he's soaked through and through and cursing under his breath from the cold as he walks home, knowing it'd be empty. When he opens the door there's a flash of lightning and he swears he sees Hijikata leaning there with a half quirked smile and an inviting look in his eyes. Then the room fades back to bleak wood colour and his boots drop against the floor as he pulls them off and drops them haphazardly. He doesn't shower either, just takes a massive gulp of strawberry milk from the fridge and tries to sleep off the chill as soon as he rips off the soaking clothes and yanks on another yukata that had been draped on a table and probably hadn't been washed but was warm. He closes his eyes, there's nothing there but dark hair and swirling haze as he slips in and out of a stupor that isn't quite sleep or rest.

Gintoki _knows_ it's his fault, _knows_ he shouldn't have spoken like that. But at the same time he wonders if it might've been a good thing. After all, even thought Hijikata had been angry, anger was an emotion that wasn't irregular for him and he hadn't broken down. Fire in his eyes was still _fire,_ even though it was of a similar caliber to his self loathing dead-fish look. Maybe he would use that strength to go do things since he had to channel the energy somewhere and what better place than work? Gintoki hoped Hijikata wasn't overworking himself, knows that to be futile because he probably was, and resigns to laying in a curled up foetal position until either Pattsuan comes hammering at the door or Kagura breaks it down.

He hadn't apologised to them yet. And nobody comes to the door. So he lays in the damp bedding from his no-longer-dripping hair and starts to think about why he's so bothered about this. No matter who and when, he's always been able to maintain his straight face with the knowledge that if he didn't they could hurt him. He's always been rather blank by expression and selfish by words, he could talk for hours which made him seem socially gifted but he isn't. If anyone had actually been listening when he spoke they might've had a reaction and been told he was crazy a few times but that hasn't happened just yet so he knows the only times he's come close to having been listened to is when Shouyou would sit and watch the stars with him and that walk with Hijikata weeks ago. _There, that name again._

Gintoki doesn't understand why he's so strung up and worried about someone he doesn't know. _But you do know,_ a voice tells him, _and you want to know more._ He raps his knuckles against his skull in annoyance. He already had plenty of things to think about, and now this has to make the list as well? He can't really deny that he does want to know more, but he isn't able to accept it fully either. He'd always been told things without asking too much, found things out without seeking too much and at this point it seemed unnatural to seek anything. He does, without realising, seek out company by letting that desire seep into his aura; that aura is so bright that they flock to him while he's left unable to imagine why they'd come to follow a guy like him and whether he himself was making it worth it for them. He wasn't, he knows this, but they stay anyway. That makes Gintoki smile when he's at any bad time. These people chose him and would stay with him forever. Literally forever with Gintama's Sazae-san format, don't you doubt it.

The smile he'd been pushing away adorns his face accompanied by the wet saltiness of tears as they streak down his cheeks quietly, unbidden, without hesitation. He really thinks this time, half asleep with his thoughts aswirl about when he'd seen Hijikata's change, seen the four month lapse and the hospital and his getting back up. It'd been about a year by now if his counting wasn't too bad, but everything is clear as day in his memory as if it hadn't been more than a week. He finds it hard to believe it really _was_ more than a week. Gintoki, though he draws strength to fight and to stand from the people around him, finally becomes aware that Hijikata, for all his blessings and that sparkling job position had never more than two people to support anything, and more often than not nobody tried. It makes him quite confused again as to what he had that the vice commander didn't, and he can't come up with an answer that isn't crazy enough to make him frustrated all over again.

It also makes him aware that Hijikata had to be a different caliber of person if he's been standing through years of people trying to push him down and get him to stay down, not so long ago Gintoki might've been one of those if he had acted a little more on his burning angry instincts. The anger had dulled and the insults turned tame over the years but now he'd gone and messed it up just when they'd been following a higher point on their relationship. He isn't sure what's right anymore, he's only trying to come to terms with the decisions he's made. And those were some fucked up decisions if he's honest, so really he's trying to figure out how even to fix whatever he could and accept what he couldn't. Normally he'd just accept it all in a truck load of alcohol but today he's sober and seriously thinking about how to go back. Because apparently there were some things he wanted to fix, some things he couldn't just accept and move on without very much of a fight. 

He's fought before, for things he's loved, he knows this but it's been physical. He's never stopped himself from pushing people away and didn't think he'd try now but he is. He has a fear of the battlefield that robbed from him so much worth more than the money he swindles on pachinko and cheap booze, and that battlefield is where Hijikata _lives._ So the right thing for them both would obviously be to let him be and push him as far as possible from his staining influence, wouldn't it?  
He doesn't understand why he doesn't want to let go this time and doesn't _want_ to understand but it's gnawing at him and he has to try, irritatingly, annoyingly, _thankfully._ The feeling's sunk it's way through his thick lazy skin and rushes like blood through his veins. He might've once wanted out because it was an energy consuming feeling but he's surprisingly wishing to have his energy taken if this was the feeling he got in return. It's late, he knows, his mind is hazy and he's slipping in and out of sleep while he thinks, knowing and not caring that soon he would just nod off. There's too many years he's lived trying to rush through his life that now he knows to take it slow as he can, stretching out whatever he could and leisurely living his days in the Yorozuya.

Something wakes him in the middle of the night. He groans and stumbles blindly for the bokken by his bedside and tries to rub the crust away from his eyes enough to see what it was but the room is silent. The stale air had been startled by his scrambling, he could tell from experience that there hadn't been anyone here from the moment he fell asleep and that's slightly unsettling. So he had woken himself up? Shreds of a dream flash at the back of his mind and he freezes, trying to pull them back to the front of his vision and afraid his movement would startle it off. Ridiculous as that sounded, that's how it felt to him as the images got hazier and further away till he could barely make out what it was anymore, even while he tried to clutch on to it the dream eluded his effort and slipped quietly out of his grasp leaving him with nearly crushed lungs from holding his breath, heaving and trying desperately to remember what it was that woke him up at this absurd time of night.

He brushes his hair back with a sigh, cringing at his disgusting smelling breath and pushing himself upright enough to stand and walk to the kitchen, albeit swaying and ramming his shoulders against the wall occasionally. Gintoki pulls a carton of strawberry milk and downs a third of it straight before he feels settled enough to walk back to his bed, faintly aware that the liquid would turn his breath even fouler in the morning. He can't find it in himself to care enough so he just shrugs and drops back onto the bed that's now suddenly too small for this room and empty cupboards and floor at the right corner where a certain someone used to throw his things. Gintoki scowls and tries to chastise his mind because why think of him now? He needed rest, dammit, not to be kept up the next three hours by- Sleep first.

Eventually he does fall back asleep, breathing even against the futon as his back rose and fell when his chest expanded, folded arms cushioning his cheek and legs carelessly tossed among the tangled sheets. Sunlight drips through the drawn curtains and covers his silver hair and bronze skin in tints of gold. He's peaceful. _Until he's woken up again,_ jolting and twisting upright with the force of a hurricane and the gripping realisation of the _last_ thing he needed right now. He's covered in sweat within seconds, his breathing is almost laboured as he tries to calm himself and a woman outside screams for the newspaper. It's a Saturday when Sakata Gintoki realises he's in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I'm so sorry for taking this long to update a decent chapter but there was so much going on and I'd really been feeling so out of it, thanks to anyone and everyone who's reading this. I write as much for you as I do for myself, encouragement from here is probably the only thing that makes me smile. Comments and kudos are always welcome, feel free to talk to me :)


	8. Dissipate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Insanity isn't so bad, really  
> Especially when it's wrought from desire  
> It isn't just the alcohol messing with Gintoki's head,  
> And it isn't just the work tiring Hijikata out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me this long :) This is out muuuch sooner than I'd planned so I really hope you enjoy it

Dissipate  
Sakata Gintoki/Hijikata Toshirou

It feels like a shroud. To Sakata Gintoki, it feels like his senses have been dampened by the very thought of Hijikata Toshirou. Not in the rather cliché way of saying the other practically lived in his thoughts and fantasies, well, not entirely. It's like every mention of something he can associate with the man sends him off the edge, stumbling to change the topic so as not to give himself away and an anxious jump whenever his image trailed into his thoughts. As if a heavy blanket of fear had been draped over his every movement, every action, every thought at all times and quite frankly it's exhausting. Shinpachi mentions seeing Yamazaki in the marketplace, Gintoki turns on the television. Kagura storms in screaming about Sougo, Gintoki storms out in a flurry, yukata blowing behind him.

He tries to think rationally, to set himself back on high alert, but he can physically feel himself slipping back into a lull of daydreams. Walking through the town, his brow is unusually furrowed and his legs take him to a restaurant he really shouldn't be in at this moment. But, in his addled state of mind, he doesn't realise that until he's seen Hijikata sitting at the counter, hands folded over an empty bowl. He really should do something, should run away, move forward, act like it doesn't affect him, do something. But he freezes, his body shuts down and his mind races so fast he thinks he's unwell. Half the eyes in the bar are on him, but not the particular pair he was fixated on, his breathing laboured and still drawing a blank on what to do. A waiter smacks him in the side with a broom, and he's never been so thankful in his life that he was able to look away.

He should fucking _apologise_ but he doesn't. He walks cautiously and slides into his usual seat, too scared for a greeting and his tongue gets heavy anyway when Hijikata stands and leaves. He should fucking _stop him_ but he doesn't, and he's irritated with himself because how the hell did his body decide to shut down now? And why did he feel constantly under the influence of some booze? Gintoki doesn't even mentally register what he'd ordered or what he eats, or even if he'd paid, though he probably hadn't. He just stumbles out of the place half dazed probably having consumed a fair amount of alcohol through reflex alone. Colours look like smudges and blurs and he knows full well he isn't even walking remotely straight. It's not light outside anymore, it's nearly pitch black save a few lamps and he wonders where the hell he ended up at this time, shrugs, and tells himself he'll figure it out in the morning.

He can already feel the bile in his throat. Gintoki doesn't even get past one dark alleyway before he has to stop and hold himself against the wall while his insides turn out. His entire stomach churns and wrenches like he's having the guts pulled out of him with a pitchfork, and this time the buzz hadn't even been worth it because he had felt _nothing._ Not a damn thing. He's clutching the rough wall with shaking fingers, digging splinters into his skin with the effort of the half crouch he's positioned in on his shivering legs. There's a shadow cast along his face and he can't be bothered to look up. So he clutches his stomach as more vile fluid comes up his throat making a mess in the open trash bag that had been dumped here. Gintoki pities the garbage man. He doesn't know why the hell he's throwing up or how much alcohol he'd consumed all at once, but it hadn't been worth it since all he could think about was that _damn-_  
He heaves again. Unsure of how much he'd spoken aloud between spiels.

Once he's settled enough to be swaying, feeling disgusting and in dire need of a shower and a nap, he wants to collapse against the wall that isn't too far away and pretend like it was a futon. Or someone's arms. Before he can take a step, a sigh echoes distantly in his ears, distorted by his twisted senses, he thinks it's a man's voice but can't be sure. He wonders again where he is that warranted someone's recognising him, hopes he isn't near the Jouishishi headquarters and pauses in his shambling. A low mumble of, "Now you know how I feel", reaches his ears but he can't register the voice as it's owner wipes his mouth and shoves something between his teeth. It's a sour candy, not a poison, so he chews. Slowly, as his arms are draped over this person and they're both walking.

From the shoulders at least he can tell it's a male, but he still doesn't know who it is. Probably Madao, he thinks, because who else would help him like this. The initial thought that it might've just been a Good Samaritan escapes him when they turn to a street familiar to him and says, "Almost at the Yorozuya", and something else he doesn't quite catch. He tries to thank them, but stumbles over the syllables in two or three broken languages before just dropping heavier over whoever this was. Well it wasn't as if he'd asked so who the hell would care if he was ungrateful and wretched. He knows he won't be able to set a futon and thinks he won't get past the first step but he sees a light upstairs, out of focus and wavering.

It causes him to shamble faster, apparently causing such a ruckus that what he assumed were Kagura and Shinpachi jumped over the fencing to haul his stupid ass upstairs. He vaguely makes out an 'O' in the girl's enthusiastic gushing, and now he's sure it's Madao but confused as to why the man would haul him back here instead of offering his stupid cardboard box. And why the hell Madao himself wasn't drunk off his rocker, but maybe that was because he was so flat broke bars wouldn't even let him in. The glint of Pattsuan's glasses and Kagura's bright orange hair shift focus in his eyes and he tries to glance at Madao, but his eyes only sweep past the smooth skin of a neck that makes him ask himself if Hasegawa had lost weight or something. He's too far gone to understand whatever he was being berated about, so just groans and somehow the clacking of someone's sandals is clear as ice in his ears, probably the only thing that was at this point. He's tossed in a futon and blankets are carelessly thrown over him but he's out like a light the minute his head touches a pillow.

 _"I'm never drinking again"_ , is what he would have said, but he'd given up on that statement a while ago because he knew that was bullshit and more the headache talking than the rational part of him that knows he won't last 48 hours. The realisation doesn't make the headache any less terrible though, nor does the lack of hypocritical complaints. Hauling himself on all fours to the kitchen he reaches for the fridge handle only to be stopped by a broomstick. A pair of glasses is holding out a tablet and a glass of water to him when he turns to look. The human that the pair of glasses is wearing smiles wearily, "How are you feeling Gin-san?"

He garbles out a response before swallowing the tablet and two mouthfuls of water to wash the bitterness out of his throat. Shinpachi shakes his head and hands him a glass of strawberry milk when he finishes the water. "Don't eat anything right now, your stomach may still be unstable", he's warned. Kagura skips into the room still humming her morning radio exercises and asks if Gin-chan had thrown up and clogged the bathroom, to which he replies that he hasn't and she seems happy. She busies herself taking out utensils to serve herself breakfast that Shinpachi had already made and served, and Gintoki barks what he can manage of a laugh and tells her she's growing up quite a bit.

"I'm glad to see you and Hijikata-san made up"

What.  
_What._  
"Yeah! Gin-chan you surprised me and made me proud! I'll give you a reward of sukonbu later!"  
_**What.**_  
"I really was surprised initially when you were being quite crude Gin-san."  
_What the-_  
"Gin-chan you could've at least been cou-...cur-..."  
"Courteous, Kagura-chan."  
_What the **fuck-**_  
"But I guess we both worried for no reason since you seem to be perfectly fine",  
_What in-_  
"It would've been a waste if you'd become strangers again."  
_Why-_  
"Especially after how mushy you were earlier Gin-chan, that's just cruel."  
_Why would they-_  
"Gin-san?"  
"Gin-chan?"  
"Don't tell me-"  
**Stop _joking._**  
"You don't...remember?"  
_**Fuck-**_

His face must've been radiating a mix of hope and disbelief but mostly just ridiculous shock but he manages through a chittering jaw to ask, "Remember what?"  
Kagura narrows her slender eyebrows and Shinpachi looks away, adjusting the frame of his glasses uncomfortably.  
"Toshi brought you home yesterday Gin-chan, we're sorry, we thought-"  
"So you haven't-"  
"He what?"  
They look to each other briefly before turning back to him, "He brought you here, we took you from him."  
"...that wasn't Madao?"

A voice from the floorboards of the living room gives a sarcastic laugh that answers his question well enough for him to be terrified. His grimace becomes a watery frown that twitches slowly upwards insanely until he's laughing a demented, self-pitying laugh. "Hijikata Toshirou brought me home from a bar he rarely visits and safely handed me to you? _The demon vice commander?_ You must be crazy, Pattsuan go get your eyesight checked, maybe Kagura needs a pair of glasses too", he's still in hysterics though he's aware they're misplaced and it's a sensory overload reaction, but he's uproarious anyway. Kagura looks a little afraid, but Shinpachi, oh he looks like he understands. What he understood was a mystery, and while his chuckles die down they morph into sobs of sheer psychotic fear until he's shuddering and sobbing with his hand over his face and his fingers parted so at least one of his eyes can stare ahead. Disbelief written all over the wide optic, his mouth is twisted in a wrenching sob that's half a grin he hasn't fixed yet. And he thought being hungover was bad.

Shinpachi has no idea whatsoever what he's meant to do in this situation, so he does the logical thing, he waits to see if Gintoki will ask them anything. He waits and he waits till he knows Kagura is terrified beyond relief and then he receives the mildest shake of a head from the silver haired man. It doesn't take too long to usher Kagura out of the room with faint reassurances and leave the man alone with his pained tears and broken breaths. It's painful to leave him like that, but what choice does he have? This was something he couldn't interfere with. Nobody could, and nobody would.

\---

Hijikata doesn't know why he'd done that. He'd decided not to make any contact with the Yorozuya after that day, but once he'd seen him outside the Shinsengumi barracks throwing up in the barely lit streets, he wonders if this wasn't a coincidence. The man was hacking up his insides, thankfully in a garbage bag, alone, and he just couldn't leave him alone. So he did the next best thing, helped him out and gave him a candy to clear the taste in his mouth and dragged him back to the headquarters of the Yorozuya even though the probability of it being empty was rather high.

Gintoki's hiccuping and drumming fingers over his shoulders, it feels almost therapeutic but he doesn't react to it. The guy continues to hum some vague tune as he leans heavily against Hijikata, body pressing into his side and grin almost at his cheek. The walk there had never seemed this long, but Hijikata knew if he said even a single word whatever cover the alcohol was giving him would be gone. He's just hoping the perm haired bastard thinks it's somebody else. Kagura and Shinpachi are beaming at him when he arrives, and he really can't help but offer a small smile and a quick minute of greetings before his work becomes his excuse and he's off back to his room. Far, _far_ away from the Yorozuya.

The next time he sees the man, it's not three days later and it's at a café, which comes as no surprise to him. What does however, surprise him ridiculously, is the swollen red skin under the man's eyes that he notices while standing at the counter waiting for his coffee. Gintoki looks sideways at him, and his churning stomach expects a teasing smile, a dumb joke, even just a nod. He gets a leer. Dull red eyes roam his face in an unreadable jumble of too many things that change into a blatant faced _leer_ the minute he tries to read into the expression. It's off putting to say the least, so he changes his order to go and gets himself out of that goddamn café.

If the man had claimed to have been doing it by accident before, now he knew that was absolute bullshit because this was no accident. And he's slowly starting to learn the difference between accident and mistake again, having the darkest places of his life shoved back in his face was something he never really enjoyed. Even less now, when he believed this man was something of a special person. Maybe it was just him that wasn't special enough? There really was nothing he could do about this situation but be angry, and he is _so_ angry. It simmers right below his skin and burns up his cheeks and into his face, annoyance and irritation setting him on fire through the inside. He feels like if he allows himself to expel that anger it'd roll off him in explosive waves like Mikoto Suoh. That's the last thing he needs as a public servant.

To his annoyance, he'd been assigned quite a few more days off than he would've liked to have. Why they wouldn't just leave him be was beyond him; he loved his work and knew there was a job to be done and he would be doing it. Regardless of the hour, he genuinely enjoyed completing work that needed to be done, if only for the satisfaction and the distraction it provided. But now he was being forced quite out of his comfort zone and sent on various free days and off days without explanation. Sometimes Kondo would storm into his room before he got up and turn his alarm clock telling him not to wake up and that he had the day off. The first time he actually thinks it's a joke and gets up anyway, even gets dressed and shows up at the morning meeting. Kondo shoves him out the door and says the meeting is only for on duty officers.

Needless to say the man was his superior, and he couldn't argue, but that didn't make it any less easier to cross a thousand places that reminded him of a sweet-toothed moron. He tries to walk around far outskirts, places he'd never been before, and is ambushed by a group of Joui factionists, much to his chagrin, even having to fight them off. He comes back to the barracks looking like a murderer that day, and Kondo looks disappointed. The next time he has the day off, Sougo slides him a ticket to an okama bar that he rips up and throws back in the boy's hair. He then offers to spend the day with him and Hijikata tells him his work would be of more value. He isn't bluffing, Sougo doing work would be so much more sensible than having him traipse around with his eye mask on napping at every corner.

-

He can't remember what this festival is, why there are lights and stalls everywhere, or why he'd decided to go. But he's here, with a yokai mask over his face and a little pouch for money should he have to spend. He decides to try cotton candy, because it looks sickly bright enough to be an excuse for him to leave earlier. He takes the fluffy spun cloud and almost pays, but a hand stops him before and a man in another mask pays for him. He double checks the hair but it's hidden under the back netting of the mask. The man holds out his hand, but doesn't say a word. Hijikata doesn't take the hand, but he nods. What would he lose from following someone who paid for his...whatever this abomination was.

It's disgustingly sweet, enough to make him feel queasy but he doesn't give it away. It's familiarity that he isn't admitting. The man walks beside him, points towards fireworks, pulls him towards stalls and make him stumble more times than he had in a while. Maybe ever. But he doesn't step out of line. At one point he grabs Hijikata's wrist to show him something, but lets it go immediately. He never sees or hears the man, but he does enjoy the purely gesture emoted conversation they're having. It's not even really a concern of his that the man can see his face. By the time the sun creeps it's way into the dark sky and all the stalls are closed, Hijikata's completely spent and drops himself onto a bench. The man had bid him farewell a few minutes ago and he was glad there was no name provided. This was a company purely enjoyed in its simplicity.

He starts to think against his will that it was the natural perm, he really does and he decides it would even be surprising. When the same perm walks by with a homeless man, he almost asks. Hijikata's an idiot. "Stop lookin' at me all hopeful, officer. Whatever you're wishing I did, I didn't do it and you can't arrest me", Gintoki sneers, the homeless man does a double take and Hijikata wants a pot of black coffee. He stays where he is to watch the sun rise, hearing the wind snap through the draperies of the stalls behind him. He doesn't notice a set of eyes on his skin, a cardboard box behind him, or the excessive rattling of the trash can as he throws the entrance bill into it. Its rather cold, and he only notices now without the press of a throng of bodies that overwhelmed him during the festival, so he decides to go back to the Shinsengumi headquarters.

He thinks he sees the Yorozuya turning the same corner again, but he's too exhausted to check. He can barely even get his own legs to work. The barracks are empty but not lonely, there's a familiarity in the air and a warmth of welcome. The breeze is tinged with anticipation of the next day, and the heavy breaths of tired soldiers. Perhaps the festival had been a good idea, as irregular as it usually was for him to attend any. He wonders if he'll meet the masked man again if he goes to the same festival next year, and makes a small, discreet memo in an empty notebook he was meant to be using for a personal planner. When he oversleeps, he expects Kondo-san's booming laugh and the sleep deprived waves of a few soldiers who'd tried to wake up on time. He's still surprised, not only that his alarm wasn't by his futon but that his internal clock hadn't woken him up. 

He even vaguely remembers going to the kitchen for a glass of water at some point, but not checking for his alarm clock. What he doesn't expect, is Sougo sliding open his door without a weapon in sight holding a tray with two steaming cups of coffee. He doesn't want to prompt a shift back in attitude so he sits quietly on his bed while Sougo lets himself in. His mouth feels thick even though he hasn't sleep too long and he's grateful for the coffee, maybe also for the company. The brunette drops himself down, sword at his right and makes a remark about Hijikata's ruffled hair and clothes. He isn't being good natured when he chuckles, and he knows Sougo's almost never like this. They make small talk and sip coffee, before the other admits to taking his alarm clock and putting crushed sleeping pills in all the kitchen glasses, knowing everybody else slept too heavy to get up for water and that they'd wash the glasses at least come morning.

The soldiers are all training in the dojo when he enters, and he moves to practice at the front so they can follow his counts like usual. Step front, swing, step back, swing, the movement is rhythmic to him. Someone at the back asks during a break if their superior can show them single handed sword techniques. Hijikata frowns and loosens the sleeves of his uniform shirt before giving up and discarding the vest and cravat along with his jacket, leaving only his plain white shirt. He steps in the middle of the wooden floor and draws his metal sword, more used to its balance than a bamboo practice sword. He steps forward, turns his wrist and drags the blade at an angle to the right, upwards before he flips the hilt in his palm and brings his arm upwards to the left with the flick of a wrist. His hand turns back to it's normal position and he steps back, switching hands before he drags the blade from upper right to lower left of his weight, raising his arm in a circular sweep to the upper left of his vision before flipping the hilt in his palm once more and slashing down to the right, twisting the blade as he moved, returning to the start position. He only notices the awe of the men around him when he drops his stance and sheathes his sword. He doesn't, however, notice a certain perm standing with Sougo outside the dojo by the fence. By the time he goes to the garden in search of his lazy subordinate, it's empty. He alerts Yamazaki and goes back to practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated, thank you for reading, it makes my day to know people like what I write


	9. Forlorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Underhand, overhand, just don't let it get out of hand  
> Don't lose your consciousness, don't forget your humanity  
> Gintoki wonders whether karma has gone and left him to what he deserves now, but that can't be it, that most certainly can't be it because this time he wants to fight.  
> Hijikata wishes smoke will blind him enough that he can no longer see the solitude he's drowning it, and he doesn't want to acknowledge it either.

Forlorn  
Sakata Gintoki/Hijikata Toshirou

He falls back into routine, easily, comfortably. It's drilled into him when to wake up, when to patrol, when to work, and everything in between. What doesn't sit with his routine, however, is that fucking natural perm's mess of ruined hair and irritating mug. That's what almost causes him to bite a cigarette just for the nicotine relief, but he still doesn't. Well, this time it's because he hadn't remembered to buy a pack he liked. He's tired and he's empty and though he gets along better now he's still aching from time to time. He's making progress and his sword is lighter than a feather between his fingers, his papers scrawl through quicker than he knows what he's writing because it's all getting easier and he's becoming better at it but he's alone nonetheless.

He could be the strongest man on the face of this earth and he'd still be so, so alone. It's not that he has nobody to talk to, because that sort of thing was impossible being the vice commander of the Shinsengumi. He had Kondo-san and Sougo, Yamazaki to scream at, his subordinates to order around, and even Matsudaira to make small talk with. Sometimes he'll meet Kyuubei on the streets and she'll greet him, ask about his work and be off. Other times he meets Shimura's sister, who's more often than not dragging the corpse of a gorilla behind her and seeking out Hijikata to throw said corpse at. He usually doesn't bother catching, and doesn't apologise. She storms off before he can bother. Once in a while he'll see Tsukuyo or Sarutobi, the former talks to him with respect as another member of a defending force, and the latter glares at him for a reason he can never understand.

When he runs into Kagura or Shinpachi or sometimes both, he doesn't have the heart to treat them like flat out strangers, so he'll talk to them, ask how they are, smile at their antics, and leave the minute they mention Gintoki. After the first five times they pick up and stop mentioning him. Hijikata is thankful for this, so he buys them ice cream or some dango every once in a while, and says goodbye when he excuses himself to resume whatever he'd been doing. Neither of them are open about their concern, but he can see it and he appreciates it more than he says, though even if he wanted to say it he couldn't because those two were such respectful children. These people are all there for him to make conversation with, exchange pleasantries, offer greetings. He's thankful for those things, he always is, but sometimes he can't help the pain that shoots through his system.

It's not physical anymore, he's past the medical overdose he'd gotten and past the constant ache he had when given time off. But it _hurts_ nonetheless, lacing through him with icy fingers and he doesn't know what to do about it. Sometimes he gets up to go to the mess hall and get a glass of water, other times he'll go splash his face, and he doesn't bother with it on the days he just turns around and goes back to sleep. But he can't sleep forever. Kondo or Sougo is always at his door at the crack of dawn, they never used to be and it's the concern filtering through. Thankfully they don't pry, they wait till he's awake, till he's brushed his teeth and showered, and bring him coffee after he's done putting on his uniform. After that Sougo usually tries to kill him a few times, and Kondo will slap him across the back with enough force to kill him, but he's alive and for now that's all he can be. That's all he needs to be.

\---

Gintoki is the most miserable wretch you'd find on the roads. He's hiccuping as he complains to the stall owner that he can't even seek out a good lay or something because of how twisted he was. He still refused to get himself drunk enough to imagine or mistake a partner for someone else and he can't get drunk off the bare quantity he drinks, but he pretends like he is so the stall owner doesn't think he's a crazy person. His voice is breaking at various points as he grumbles more to the table than the stall owner who's serving someone else now. There's a man close by selling face masks and when he's stumbling away from the stall so the owner doesn't realise he hasn't paid, he picks up a mask with some change he fishes out of his boot. The vendor looks pleased, probably not expecting any idiot to buy a cloth face mask, but he has a use for this. Tomorrow's Hijikata's day off, if Jimmy had given him proper information. Gintoki stops by the theatre and checks tomorrows screenings, then he curses at himself because he's thinking this through. He's thinking through that he, on his own, could not do anything but flat out insult Hijikata; however behind a mask he could be someone else, and he's planning a full day behind a mask he shouldn't have bought. A good ways behind he hears the stall owner screaming but he just shambles faster, reckoning it'll be out on a tab he'll never pay.

After he's showered in the morning he gels his hair and puts a net over it before pulling on a cheap wig one of the okamas had given him, he reckons it was that Ago guy. The wig's dark brown and straight, and he already looks like a different person without the mask. He's wearing a coffee coloured yukata with what sandals he could find and the mask is covering his face. Shinpachi hasn't come by yet, but he will soon and Otose is probably awake so he jumps out the window and lands a fair way away from the garbage. He enters a back street without any problem and lets his feet take him without thinking, buying two tickets for a movie and then lurking around a tobacco shop because he knows Hijikata would buy a pack and keep it in his pocket without touching even one.

He isn't wrong, Hijikata comes by with a wallet from which he procures a few coins to buy a pack. The packet goes into the sleeve of his dark blue yukata and just as he turns Gintoki spots a young girl with a cell phone. He tries not to cringe at himself before dashing to her, "Hey! Fumi-chan! Sorry, did I keep you waiting?" The girl looks up at him with a repulsed expression, but her attention and Hijikata's is caught. He says, in a lower voice, a lewd comment that Hijikata probably couldn't catch, innocent smile on his face under the mask that only exposed his eyes, and the slap she gives him sends his glasses flying. The girl then proceeds to storm off, and Hijikata picks up the glasses by his feet, and offers them to the disguised Gintoki, who averts his eyes as he puts them on. "Ah, thank you. Did you happen to see that? Damn, and I had bought tickets for that movie she wanted to see so badly."

Hijikata offers a wry smile, "Yeah I saw, what a pity huh? You want a smoke?"  
Gintoki's surprised because Hijikata doesn't usually offer his cigarettes but he nods anyway. Hijikata pulls out the new pack and taps out the first one, offering the box to Gintoki who takes it in his fingers and crinkles his eyes, sheepishly rubbing his neck, "Is this a new pack? I'm so sorry to trouble you."  
Hijikata taps the box again before pulling the cigarette out between his lips, and the other curses how _attractive_ that was even as he puts the box back and brings out a lighter. "It's no trouble, I did just see you get slapped", he scoffs before flicking the lighter to light up Gintoki's cigarette before lighting his own, shoving that too inside before taking a drag.

He's dumbfounded because he didn't know the other had started smoking again, but he can't allow a lapse in conversation because that was too suspicious, and not to mention familiar for a stranger. "Ah, yeah, girls are so inconsiderate sometimes. But boys can be too, they'll do everything to avoid looking unmanly or childish", he does his best not to sound like himself. Hijikata closes his eyes as he breathes out a trail of grey smoke, eyelashes glittering from the humidity in the smoke and lips moist from the same. "...yeah they do, don't they. She was your girlfriend right?"  
"Yeah. I'm Asamiko, what's your name?"

"Hijikata Toshirou", he holds the cigarette with two fingers and offers a hand. Gintoki shakes, wonders if Hijikata will notice it's him, and marvels at how cold his hands are. But he has an act to keep up. Right now he's Asamiko, not Gintoki. "Wait, Hijikata Toshirou? The demon vice commander of the Shinsengumi?"  
He hums.  
"Oh man, today is _not_ my lucky day. I just got dumped in front of a man I really respect. You're basically my idol."  
Hijikata clearly hadn't been expecting this since his lips part into a smile that's almost a laugh and it's beautiful but he can't say it. He wants a picture. "Say, Hijikata-san, since I have tickets do you want to watch the movie with me? The theatre is just around the corner."

He manages to spend the entire day with Hijikata, who doesn't recognise him because the mask has a voice filter that makes him sound deeper. Suddenly Gintoki has a newfound respect for mask makers and modern technology, because if he had to play a mute in this role he wouldn't have even bothered doing it. When evening sets they pass by a bridge and Hijikata says, "You remind me of someone I used to know. Well, you're nothing like him but your voices are similar, a little. He...was a good friend of mine." That's all he says. Before Gintoki can reply even as Asamiko, the other thanks him for the movie and the company before walking away, waving an arm in parting. Asamiko isn't ungrateful so he does call back a thank you before turning away. He curses, hates his cowardly self and pulls off the disguise in a back alley because he's definitely going to drink today. It'd be suspicious if he went home so he'd already shoved a bunch of stuff in a trash bag he'd left outside the pachinko parlour and he retrieves it from there, shoving his sandals and yukata along with the wig and net in the bag. The way to the bar passes by the Yorozuya so he tosses the bag through his open window and hopes the door is closed.

While he walks he takes a sniff of his clothes and since he doesn't gag, reckons they're alright for now. He walks an unnecessarily long path to the bar closest to the Shinsengumi hoping he'd meet a certain someone there, but also dreading the same. He can hear boisterous laughter even before he enters, and he figures that's Kondo. Well, he had nothing to pick with the gorilla stalker so he shrugs it off and opens the door, dumping himself unceremoniously onto a bar stool before throwing his head back and asking for some hard liquor. He receives a far off affirmation and doesn't bother opening his eyes to the white noise around him.

That is, until Kondo says "Toshi" and a low hum reaches his ears. Still, he doesn't impulsively shoot up, he raises his eyelid slowly to peer in the direction of the hum and is met with the sight of black locks right next to him. The clank of a glass is all he needs before he downs the whole thing in mere seconds, calling for seconds before he even opens his eyes again. But Hijikata is still there, he seemingly hasn't moved, and the drink between his fingers is almost full. "Yo, if it isn't Oogushi-kun. Missing a cigarette aren't ya?"  
No response.  
"What, your little errand boy not servicing ya anymore?" He worded that on purpose, but there's no response. He doesn't notice the bar is slightly quieter.

"When someone's taking the effort to talk to your ugly mug, the least you can do is look at 'em, ahn?!" He slams a hand on the table and the noise has died down enough not to muffle that. Hijikata sips, swallows, puts the drink down. "Oh what now you think you're gonna punch me bastard?" He watches as the other takes a cigarette in his mouth and fishes for a lighter. "Mommy lifted your ban on tobacco, cherry boy?"  
He lights up, blows some smoke out, and rests his hands on the table. Gintoki is probably a bit drunk since he's had three full pegs between the screaming and the wailing in his head convinces him there's still noise around him.

He honestly doesn't think anyone will notice when he yanks Hijikata's pale wrist and grabs a fistful of his yukata, getting all up in a face that's so desperately indifferent he's agitated, and threatening to beat him within an inch of his life or something along those lines. "You haven't forgotten that I'm stronger than you, ahn?! Because I sure as hell remember beating your ass on a rooftop with shingles! Some defense you are, Shinsengumi dog", Hijikata's hand twitches, but he doesn't move. Gintoki lets go of his wrist, gently, apologetically, reaches a hand up to his soft looking hair-

And is yanked back with a force that throws Hijikata back onto his chair albeit sprawled and is being stared down by the commander of the Shinsengumi. "Sakata-san, if you don't get the hell away from Toshi I'll beat the fuck out of you. Even you must know you're going too far after all that farce you played with him. Unlike you, Toshi doesn't fool around with people's feelings. If I have to keep hearing him say-"  
"That's enough, Kondo-san", these are the only words he's uttered since Gintoki had entered and it's only now he notices the hush. "I was leavin'. Let that civilian enjoy his drink without me spoilin' his mood."

Gintoki can feel that he'd been so close to going back to being able to express how he felt, but as always he's terrible at doing anything when his feelings are involved. But Hijikata Toshirou lets the cigarette that had fallen from his mouth remain on the floor, pays for the drink he hadn't finished, and leaves without another word. Kondo looks like he's about to punch Gintoki in the face and he wouldn't deny he deserves it but he clicks his teeth and lets go. Gintoki's alone at the bar once again, nursing his sixth drink within the hour. This time he's silent, and he doesn't down it all at once. This time he notices the noise in the bar and the pitiful look the bartender is giving him. This time, however, he has no interest in anything but the drink.

When Gintoki wakes up with a hangover in his bed at the Yorozuya the first thing he does is ask Pattsuan how he got here. "Um, Gin-san, you walked here on your own though, and you were early too." He doesn't remember being early, so he can't even remember how conscious he was. If only he could've been drunk when he'd screamed at Hijikata yesterday; both of them know he wasn't. He looks up through the floor boards of his bathroom, and this time he doesn't see Sarutobi. He goes outside to stretch his legs, and doesn't see Madao in a cardboard box. Otose reminds him to pay rent, Tama doesn't try to kill him. Gintoki is melancholy, and so are his surroundings. Today he doesn't have a disguise or a clean yukata so he can't go after Hijikata through his bad habit, but he can go for some parfait and pachinko. Who knows, maybe today's the day he'll luck out and become rich. Once he's rid of the worst of the hangover and his stomach has nothing more to regurgitate, he pulls on a set of his clothes that smell halfway alright and leaves. The streets are empty, save for the chirping of the cicadas.

\---

Hijikata had never in his life felt close to being a robot. It had been said that he was heartless and cold, and many other things at that but he was also alive. His anger, his regret, his emotional attachment and repulsion. But now he feels _detached._ For the first time, he starts to wonder if he really is becoming a robot. He checks his pulse at his wrist and then his neck, he holds a hand over his mouth and he does find all the positive signs. The scariest thing is that he _wasn't afraid_ of not finding those signs. He can feel the drive in him dissipate, but can't act on it, he can feel his expressions drop away, and can't fix it.

He's turning apathetic and he doesn't hate it, but the part of him that's breathing is afraid. So, so afraid of never feeling anything again. He wonders if anyone can fix him. Kondo-san can't, he knows that as much as he respects and appreciates Kondo's friendship and leadership. Sougo is too young, Yamazaki is much too old and eitherway he doesn't think they'll be able to help. The Sakura trees are blooming now, it's a beautiful time of year, and the smell of flowers and spice instills a nostalgia in him. He can really feel that, the plucking of his heart strings by smooth, deft fingers and a smile splitting through the dark times. Light brown hair set adrift in the breeze, he remembers. He feels. He isn't apathetic yet.

Mitsuba is still playing a song in his chest that his mind can't expel, and he never wants to let that song go. At the crescendo of the song, when even the birds go quiet, a voice calls his name. _"Toshirou"_ , it says, it's welcoming him home.  
The smell of spice fills his being, it's warm and bright. Fell light of dawn on chesnut coloured locks.  
 _"Toshirou"_ , and the voice changes.  
The spice changes to liquor and sickening strawberry milk. The light dims to sunset but the gold paints silver locks no less beautiful. This time the feeling stings. It's not nostalgia.  
Pale lips open to form his name but they drop. The light fades, the air darkens, he doesn't know why. Hijikata can't tell if he cares about Gintoki still, can't tell if it's something more. If only that bastard would take the step he couldn't, a highly unlikely thing to expect from the man who wants nothing to do with him. Hijikata doesn't know if he's forgotten what hope feels like, because he can't remember if this is what it is.

He wants to meet Gintoki, but at the same time he doesn't know if he can handle meeting him. He doesn't want to see Gintoki, but at the same time he doesn't know if he can stand him. It's ridiculous but it doesn't make him angry as he normally would be. He's still doing paperwork when Sougo traipses into his room, seemingly without a care in the world and drops himself onto a chair opposite to where Hijikata was writing. "Sougo", he acknowledges, the underlying question apparent to the teenager, who hums. "Do you know they used my voice on some freakishly tall megane character in a volleyball anime?" He's making conversation, but the dark haired man decides to humour him, "Yes, and they used my voice on a megane character in Kuroko no basket."

"Oh, I was in that too. As some freakishly tall purple haired snacks lover."  
"Who was as lazy as you are, but what's with your voice and the tall characters?"  
"Who knows? What's with yours and the swordsmen?"  
Hijikata attempts a grin, and blows a short plume of smoke out before stubbing his cigarette out on the ashtray that's fairly empty.

"Say, Hijikata-san", Sougo begins again, this time slow and deliberate. He hums to show he's listening, and the room is silent as Sougo thinks. "Do you-", he stops, furrows his brow and mumbles something under his breath before sighing exasperatedly. "Kondo-san asked you to accompany us to the theme park tomorrow", he settles on that, shifting his gaze back for an answer almost immediately and Hijikata wonders why it's a question. "If Kondo-san asked me to go ill have to go", he answers simply, as if that was something Sougo didn't know.

He knew though, there must've been something else but whatever it is he doesn't ask. He sits quietly and watches his superior do paperwork while skipping out on his own. Hijikata doesn't once stop scratching his pen, that is until Sougo says, "Aren't you going to light up again, smokey-kata-san." Without a hint of a question in it.  
"Don't change my name however you wish, sleep mask boy", he throws back, pulling out a pack of cigarettes an opening it to pull one out and then flicking open a lighter to take a long drag.

When they're at the theme park, Kondo stays with them for a grand total of five minutes before sprinting in a direction nobody really looks. Sougo, strangely, stays walking by Hijikata's side. The vice commander doesn't ask for any sort of explanation, he just lets him walk since he really isn't bothering him. "Hijikata-san, can you do rifle shooting?"  
"Hah? I'm a swordsman."  
"But can you? I bet you can't get that one", Sougo points obnoxiously before asking a woman in the neighbouring stall for a candy apple and pulling out what money he had.

Hijikata sighs, knowing now he's expected to do it, and brings out a coin that he tosses to the owner, a man wearing a collar upto his brown eyes and a hoodie to cover whatever hair he may or may not have. The shady person does hand him a loaded air rifle though, so he spends the first two shots on items Sougo bet he couldn't get and the third on Sougo himself, who's livid for a split second before his face fades back to neutrality.

The owner hands the prizes to Hijikata, chuckling vaguely and pulling up a sign that said 'Closed'. When he's sent the suspicious person a question glance, said person shrugs and asks if they'd like to see a temporary tattoo artist. He's about to point out that's something children do, not grown men, but Sougo flashes an obnoxious smile that he doesn't understand and makes a big show of linking arms with him before nodding furiously at the stall owner, who, from what they can see of his face, looks perplexed. Still, he leads them through a twisting path of tents and bright stalls that they definitely could not navigate back on their own, and offers to wait.

Sougo goes first, and he doesn't seem too happy about it either despite his earlier behaviour. "Y'look familiar, yknow", the suspicious man says, in a deep voice that's probably fake.  
"Makes sense, lotta people know me. You been to jail?"  
"Couple times."  
"Then it mighta been me that put ya there."  
"...Shinsengumi?"  
"Vice commander", he nods, lighting up a cigarette before offering one to the man.

The brown eyed stranger accepts, pulls one out, and touches the tip of it to the ember of Hijikata's instead of asking for a lighter. His skin doesn't flush, though it is embarassing, and he doesn't comment on it. They're able to make amiable conversation, occasionally exchanging harmless banter while they wait. Sougo comes back with his entire left arm swathed in a variety of tattoos that curl from his wrist to beneath his uniform. When Hijikata steps inside the tent and out of earshot of them, Sougo snaps.

"What the hell're you trying to do?"  
"Excuse me?"  
"Isn't it enough now, Danna?" He spits, with a venom he can barely ignore.  
Gintoki's voice however, drops from it's low guise to a high pitched, broken tone that denies what Sougo says. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Mr. uh, what did that guy say you were called?"

"Hijikata-san doesn't speak about me to strangers without good reason."  
"Who-san? Ahahaha, I don't know any Hijitoshi-sans."  
"Nobody said anything about his given name, Danna."  
"Soichiro-kun I'm telling you I'm not who you think-"  
"Nobody else in Edo calls me Soichiro." Gintoki freezes up, mentally slapping himself for letting it slip.

He lets out a deep sigh, expelling his last drag from the cigarette he then stomps into the ground. Sougo fixated a death glare on him, clearly not interested in anything but his reason for being here. "...I don't know why."  
"Then get lost", the brunette doesn't try sugarcoating his words, but Gintoki remains rooted in place with his shirt up and hoodie on. His breathing becomes erratic as Sougo's killing intent rises, and he tries not to blurt out anything unpleasant. The boy, however, is calculating something. "Isn't it enough for you to be tormenting his mind day and night? If you don't leave I'll tell him right now that it's you, _Gintoki"_ , he hisses, not a hint of remorse in his words. Gintoki doesn't want to leave, but he can't let Hijikata know either, so he ducks behind a tent and lets himself into a quiet one without too many people in it. Here he sees someone sitting in front of a table with cards on it that he doesn't dwell much on. "Give me your clothes."

"Hijikata-san are you sure about this tattoo not ruining your uniform? Don't want to see you cribbing and whining later."  
"I'm not wearing my vest or cravat and it's already dry so shut the hell up Sougo."  
"Well well if it isn't Soichirou-kun and the bastard Vice commander of the military dogs", Gintoki saunters up to them in theme park attendees' clothing. Sougo's eyes widen, lips pulling into a snarl but he says nothing. Hijikata doesn't look at him, he pulls a cigarette out of his pack and brings his lighter up, not offering Gintoki one.

"The least you two can do is thank Gin-san, who so generously agreed to help you two idiots out of this area to the theme park commons", he cocks a hand on his hip and smirks down at them, fully aware that his knees are shaking. Hijikata takes the cigarette out of his mouth and exhales the smoke before raising his head with a heavy glare, "You can be on your way, Yorozuya." Gintoki freezes up this time. His eyes widen and he takes a defensive step backwards.

"Hiji-"  
"Sougo, lets find our way out", he turns around, and Gintoki barely registers the sadistic grin on Sougo's face.  
"Toshir-"  
"Don't address me by my given name. That's Vice Commander to you", Hijikata spits out without turning, fists clenched and voice even. This time the younger boy doesn't turn, because he can see the quiver in his superior's lip and the cigarette that almost falls out. He makes up his mind to have a good talk with the Yorozuya leader later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! This journey's just hyping up isn't it? If you enjoyed, please leave a comment, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Until the next time!


	10. Restless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pathways aren't wrong, but at times they cross at the wrong time.  
> For that we need to be cautious of the potholes in our roads to each other.

Restless  
Sakata Gintoki/Hijikata Toshirou  
  
The slam that Gintoki's head makes against the concrete wall is loud enough that people murmur, stopping briefly to see what the spectacle was. "Man, Soichiro-kun, you know how to pack a punch", the perm grins lopsidedly, pulling himself off the indent in the wall only to be slammed back against it in the blind rage that is currently Okita Sougo. "He was getting better", he growls, punching Gintoki across the face.  
  
"He was going out, interacting, talking to people", he cries, still frustrated that the Yorozuya hadn't died.  
"He was almost back to himself you fuck", this time he screams and he knows it, voice breaking in the middle of his sentence and a sob wracking his frame so violently the punch he threw became an indent in the wall instead of the other's face. And at this point, said other doesn't even look the least bit concerned. He looks like he wants to drop by a convenience store and rip a free parfait off someone else before going home. That irritates the fuck out of Sougo more than anything else so he snarls, keeping his gaze lowered so Gintoki doesn't see.   
  
The alleyway is silent, but for their ragged breathing and Sougo refuses to unclench his hand from around the other's collar. He can't recall how much time passes like this, or whether anyone had stopped to look at them, or even how much trouble was waiting for him for beating up a civilian while in uniform. But this man was hardly a civilian to him anymore. There was a limit to everything. "Sougo-" the Yorozuya starts, sighing and adjusting his footing before continuing, "-I really am trying."  
  
His snarl tightens and his fist swings to smash across Gintoki's face so hard he hears it ram against the wall sideways. "No, you're fucking _not_ ", Sougo curses, the ice in his voice blatant as he steps away. Gintoki drops to the floor of the alleyway and Sougo catches his gaze momentarily, registering with no small amount of shock the regret in it. Before he lets himself think any more, he storms out of the alleyway and back to his post where Yamazaki is, as he expected, playing badminton.  
  
"Shimaru-nii", Hijikata begins, slowing his writing before setting the pen itself down and dropping his head on the desk. Shimaru looks up from next to him, and furrows his brows. 'What?' is the implied question, so Hijikata continues. "What kinds of attraction are there?" He asks, simply, telling himself he'll build up. Shimaru stills, and thinks for two full minutes that the other counts on the clock before pulling an empty sheet of paper and scratching on to it with a pen. Another two minutes passes.   
  
The paper is passed to him and he reads it without sitting up, _'I read an article on the net beforez. There are four kindz, aesthetic, romantic, sensual and sexual. Aesthetic is when you only appreciate how someone lookz, an admiration of a form or pose. Romantic iz when you feel attached to the person in a way that you want their returned feelingz and affection of equal strengthz. Sensual is attraction to physical contact, touching, hugging, being closez. Sexual is self explanatory...z.'_  
He's probably never seen Shimaru write this much before, so he reads it over several times. He thought for sure it would've been more black and white. "Have you felt them all?" He asks, and receives a shake of the head, no from the other. "How do you know what you're feeling?"  
  
This time he writes on a board, 'By thinking about which of those you fit at the timez.' Hijikata hums, sliding his cigarette pack from his pocket and shoving one between his lips. Before he can search for a lighter on his own, Shimaru holds one to the end of the cigarette, and lights it carefully. He takes a long drag before prying it away from his mouth and breathing out a trail of smoke. He offers Shimaru a smoke, and he raises a board with the words 'No thanks.' Luckily, he doesn't mind the smoke that fills the room soon. He begins to consider his thoughts, slowly savouring the cigarette before sighing, putting it out and getting back to his work. Shimaru looks worried, but Hijikata's glad for the company alone. He stops thinking about it before his brain can go haywire on him.  
  
Shimaru stands up while he's writing, and Hijikata looks up, but doesn't ask him to stay. He can't even ask where he's going. So he watches him leave, and continues to write until the door slides open again and a familiar top of orange hair and the smell of coffee permeates the room. Something about this brings a smile to his lips as the coffee is set down and he puts his writing materials to the side to take the cup. Shimaru sits back down beside him, and it's strange how they never were this close. Shimaru had been just as much a part of the Shinsengumi as Sougo or Kondo from the get-go, and yet he spoke to even Yamazaki more than the division 2 captain.   
  
For the most part, they respected each other. It's only now, once the years have sped too fast, that they sit in the same room sipping coffee on a Tuesday afternoon. He really has to admit its a nice day. Shimaru is looking at him, steaming coffee in one hand and his weight resting on the other. He makes a questioning noise but the other doesn't answer. So he tries to guess, "You're asking what I'm thinking?" There's a nod. "Well, of the Sakura blossoms, of the weather, and the Shinsengumi", he states, simply and without pause. Shimaru eyes him for a further minute, and he holds the gaze far better than he would've had it been someone else. And then Shimaru begins to hum, pulling his mask away from his face and Hijikata watches him, draining his coffee and placing the empty cup down to lie against the tatami as the other starts to sing. This Tuesday afternoon, he thinks he's okay.  
  
"Gintoki", Otose says, puffing smoke through painted lips and moving the pipe from her face. "Hah? What do you want, old hag?" He tries to glare, but in his inebriated state he doubts that's quite possible so he sloshes his drink around and hopes it sounds as angry to her as it does to him. Hopes in vain, because she merely closes her eyes and asks him why he's drinking. "Because", he hiccups, swirling the glass half-heartedly, "It's free." He settles on that, dropping his flushed cheek against the wood. She spares him a glance through a single eye that opens briefly, but it's enough to know she doesn't believe that.   
  
"...I want to forget", _that face he made when I left, that face he makes when we cross each other, when I scream, that he doesn't jest anymore and he doesn't want me near, that I just **destroyed** an irreplaceable friendship._ This time she takes a drag of her pipe as Gintoki downs about a shot's quantity from his glass. He wants to ask for azuki on top of the drink, but he also doesn't want to be seen as Munakata Reisi's right hand woman in this scenario. He doesn't even have the straight hair for heck's sake. "Forget him?", Otose responds, voice even and keenly laced with a question.  
  
He should learn how to think before he speaks from now on. "...no, I couldn't", he tells her, it's impossible and he knows this. Otose is worried for his health, whether it had been Hijikata or Tsukuyo or Katsura, she would've said the same thing. His mouth feels warm, throat tingling with the burn of alcohol as he sits up and takes another gulp. By the time there's nothing in the glass but ice, Otose needs to open her snack bar and he stumbles out to find a stall that would sell him alcohol. His feet drag and stumble sideways and forward as he tries to find something, and he does soon enough, sliding into the booth next to a man with hair dark enough to be Hijikata but he can't see this guy's face. Black isn't an uncommon colour after all.   
  
"Hey old man, full glass of whatever the strongest thing you have is", he says simply, dumping himself unceremoniously on the wooden table and looking up as the store owner prepares the drink. His ears are ringing, everything is spinning so much he can't even really make out where the hell he is. Is he still in Kabuki-cho? Near the Yorozuya? Or closer to a different district? The glass is set in front of him and that's the only thing in high quality to his confused brain. "...Hijikata", he sighs. The man next to him makes a questioning noise that's only polite considering he's just taken a random name. "Ah, that's not my name. I'm the legendary Yorozuya Gin-san, dontcha know?", he corrects a misconception he knows is going to be made.   
  
The man hums, but his brain slurs the sound. "Hijikata is...", he begins, suddenly not minding this random stranger in a shop he won't remember in the morning. He can talk to this person, "...the person I think about like crazy yknow? Not as if I'm gonna be blushin' like a g'damn school girl but it ain't fair that he looks like an otome game bishounen." He's slightly annoyed, remembering how Hijikata had always been popular with girls and had yet never accepted any of their advances. "Bishounen?" Comes the echoing response from the man who's now listening, dark contents of a glass clinking against the ice as he shifted. "Dontcha know those games? Get a life, grey hair." He can't even register whether the grey was the moon reflecting off his hair or if he really had mistaken it for black before.   
  
The man hums faintly, and Gintoki asks for another drink. He's going to get smashed if its the last time he does. "...drink responsibly", the man says, but Gintoki makes an indignated noise. "I can't tell this f'ckin' bishounen I love 'im, like hell imma drink responsibly", he manages without slurring much, scorn clear in his voice. "Y'what?" The man asks, refilling his own drink and giving something to the stall owner who slips it under his wares. "I love 'im like I ain't loved before. I thought he was jus' annoyin's'all but y'don't wanna know more about people who annoy ya."  
  
He picks apart his own words before interrupting the silence with a, "Ah, but I ain't loved before anyway." Confirming that to himself. The man seems to get up, Gintoki can't remember if he leaves, doesn't remember if the stall owner yelled at him or not, and refuses to even bother trying to recall how the hell he ended up in the dustbin outside the Shinsengumi. He remembers one thing clearly though: Those were Mayoboro cigarettes the man had smoked at the bar.  
  
Hijikata is cold, shivering, blankets a mess around him and hair tangled, splayed out on his pillow. He really hopes Gintoki hadn't seen his ashtray when he'd passed it to that stall owner, and doubts the piece of shit even noticed it was him because he had been piss drunk and the Vice-commander could tell. His eyes weren't even focused enough to know what the fuck he was doing tripping himself over the chair four times before sitting down, looking like an idiot without a sense of balance. But seeing Gintoki hadn't thrown him off so much, honestly, the man was always drunkenly stumbling around town.   
  
It was what he said, and that he was so sure of it even in his state, that really sent Hijikata reeling till his mind clawed for a cigarette. His heart shut that up, waiting with faltering beats for an elaboration but he doesn't get much. The words churn his brain to agony, and he's missed the morning meeting but Kondo must've seen him through the door and let him be. He hasn't been able to sleep at all, and after walking away from that stall he's just been a mess. Hijikata doesn't know where Gintoki landed up, but he isn't about to go out and look. His head still hurts, and he curls further into himself as he waits for it to settle. A shadow casts over him from outside, and before he can check who it is someone knocks at the door from inside and the shadow is gone.   
  
The sliding of the door is an unwelcome sound. He can't see anyone right now. "Hijikata-san?" It's Yamazaki, and judging by the clattering he has something that he sets on the desk before crouching in front of Hijikata's bed. "I mean, um, vice-commander-san?" He doesn't respond, breathing uneven and unnaturally quiet. "Please wake up?" The other tries, flinching before reaching up to touch his shoulder so faintly he almost doesn't notice. He stirs this time, getting one leg halfway under him before pushing himself upright with one hand and holding up the sheet with the other. Yamazaki jolts, sitting ramrod straight and saluting with a ridiculous expression across his face. Hijikata shoves himself two feet forward, moving with his hands before he loses balance and falls on Yamazaki, who instantly apologises, "Im sorry! Don't kill me I'm only here to give you coffee!"  
  
"Can you...hear me out as well?" He manages, though his throat is raw and his eyes hurt. "Yes sir vice commander-san!" He shouts, unmoving as Hijikata shifts. "...relax, Zaki." The other looks down at him, and he sees blue eyes so full of vulnerability and fragility he can't possible think this is the demon vice commander who beats him up for playing badminton on the job. The morning rays filter faintly through the wooden doors and light up the room enough for Yamazaki to see his superior is a mess, and the tension in him is replaced by worry. He raises his arms around the younger man protectively, telling him he can say whatever he wants.   
  
Hijikata Toushiro is by no means a fragile person, and by even less chance a maiden in need of rescuing. He's strong, fearless, temperamental, and most of all he always knows what to do. He's their vice commander, and whether they admit it or not, every member of the Shinsengumi respects him and follows him alone. "...Gintoki said 'e loves me", the other sighs, dropping his head onto Yamazaki's shoulder as he strokes his hair, knowing full well he'd normally be killed for this. "After all that?" He asks, and Hijikata can vaguely remember someone with no presence tagging along whenever Gintoki had been standoffish.   
  
He hums, and Yamazaki grits his teeth, letting a faint sigh out through his lips before unclenching his jaw and bringing Hijikata's blanket properly over his slender form. He continues to wait as his superior's feverish breaths calm slightly. "It ain't fair", he breathes, almost inaudibly and had Yamazaki been a foot's distance away he wouldn't have heard it. He dips his head, "Yeah, it's really not, vice commander-san. But he doesn't know it was you, so you can pretend you never heard it."  
He waits, silently weaving fingers through the other's hair and marvelling at how it'd grown out so much even though Hijikata had been for a trim last week. Looks like if he wanted to he really could grow it back to the length it was during his Baragaki Toshi times. "Zaki?"  
"Yes, Vice commander-san?"  
  
"You're dismissed", he says, like the order is hollow and meaningless and he hardly knows what he's dismissing the other from. Yamazaki smiles though, and waits as his superior sits up before walking to the door and raising his hand in a salute, sliding the door shut as he leaves. There's coffee, a meal and a bottle of mayonnaise on the tray he had set down and Hijikata decides today is a good day. He can worry about everything later, but for now he wants to be okay. To stop the pain in his chest and the tearing feeling in his throat. He sips the coffee and flicks open the mayonnaise bottle once, the familiar smell wafting through the air. But somehow, it seems bland. The thought seems bland. It's not that it tastes worse or his taste buds changed, it's only that he isn't craving it.   
  
So he flicks the lid closed and leaves the bottle on the tray as he eats. When he's done, he gets out of bed and pulls on a yukata before sliding open the door that leads outside, slipping on sandals as he goes to the grass. But the area isn't empty; on the contrary there's a commotion going on and Kondo is at the front from what he can see. "Didn't I tell you not to come here until your intentions change?!" Kondo screams, and Hijikata steps closer. "I thought you were a good man, really, but I won't tolerate anyone who treats Toushi like that!" His voice sounds angry and hoarse, like he's been at this a while.   
  
Sougo says something before a man from the back of the crowd moves to the front. There's silence as Sougo turns, now at the edge of the crowd and sees Toushiro. His eyes widen, a gasp pulling his mouth that nobody notices, well of course, nobody but Shimaru. He raises an eyebrow but Sougo casts a frantic gaze to Kondo, who doesn't seem to be looking his way. When Shimaru turns, Hijikata manages half a smile, wondering if they think he isn't well enough for Shinsengumi work. He's fine though, in all honesty he had been planning to go straight to the dojo after reporting to Kondo-san.   
  
That's not the case as Sougo calls out, and the commander turns. The crowd separates as his vision suddenly goes black. He shifts, raising a hand to his eyes to find someone else's hand covering them. It takes him very little time to decipher its Shimaru, so he rests his free hand on the one the other has around his waist, and voices a question. Kondo starts to give a nervous laugh, but a clear voice cuts through, "Let him hear this."  
As Shimaru's hand on his eyes moves shakily, he narrows his gaze with as much anger as he can pull, "What, that you've been stalking me, natural perm? Go the fuck back to the Yorozuya and do some decent kind of work if you have time like this", he spits out, words acid on his tongue.  
  
"Aren't you getting a bit ahead of yourself there, Oogushi-kun? What would I gain from stalking you? Do you think I like you? How strange because I hate y-", as Hijikata's mind screams 'Stop it!', his leg moves on it's own to kick Gintoki right across the face so he's sprawling on the ground. A confused face looks up at him, and he wants to cry so badly. There's no way he can hear this. "Don't mistake it as if I don't hate you too", he cuts instead, managing to hold his stance and his glare as the other stands up. Gintoki stumbles forward, but without delay there's a sword between them glinting the sun off it's bright metal.   
  
"Shimaru-nii-", he's cut off by the grunt from the other as he's moved away from Gintoki by a hand on his upper arm. Shimaru's mask has slipped a little but he glares at Gintoki. "That's wrong. That's wrong I didn't-", nobody moves but Gintoki.  
"-Hijikata, listen-", Kondo makes a gesture to Sougo.  
"I don't hate- I couldn't-", and Sougo raises his voice, "That's enough, Danna."  
And momentarily there's only the gaze between Gintoki and Hijikata, the latter glances at Sougo and the ground as well. "... _Get out_ ", he forces, through clenched teeth because there's too many things he regrets from this five minutes.  
  
\---  
  
He remembers a Mayoboro cigarette and nothing more of the man at the bar, it's slightly hilarious how he almost convinces himself it had been Hijikata. Surely speaking openly of his feelings for such a well reputed, or infamous rather, person sounded like nothing more than a celebrity crush or an idol-mania to an outside party. Still, why he was in the dustbin outside the Shinsengumi is still confusing him, and as he tries to figure it out he wanders unconsciously through the gates, making towards the directions he'd followed from Yamazaki a while back. He makes a mistake and winds up at the opposite end of the compound, and he can't find the path through all the grass so he just walks in the longest way possible.   
  
The strip of land he'd stopped by was silent as the plague, not a single thing moved behind the sliding doors. Gintoki hears Yamazaki salute quite loudly and figures the second door belongs to Hijikata. But as he passes the first door, Sougo nearly stabs him in the gut. "Danna, don't you know you're trespassing?" He spits out, no prestige in the title and no respect in the words. "Ah, Soichirou-kun. You see, Gin-san woke up here so I've just been wandering around trying to find the exit, could you point me in that direction?"  
Kondo steps out of the third room, having heard Sougo's bazooka dropping against the ground as he unsheathed his sword. It's quite a miracle Hijikata is either busy or can't hear, because soon half the Shinsengumi is out in the yard watching their superiors indignatedly scream at the Yorozuya who'd been walking around.   
  
At some point, Sougo takes to restricting his movement while discussing what to do with him, and he leaves everything else to Kondo and Shimaru. When he's finally thrown into the dustbin outside the Shinsengumi for the second time in possibly twelve hours, he sits there for longer than necessary, knowing now he'd have to shower more than once to get the stench out. Shinpachi finds him there on a run presumably to the convenience store. "Gin-san?" Comes the question that's more concerned than annoyed strangely enough. He tries to answer but instead grabs the edge of the bin. A pale hand reaches in front of his face and though he's reluctant, he's also tired and dealing with a hangover so he accepts the proffered hand and manages to get out of the trash.   
  
"Pattsuan, what're ya doing here?" He asks, trying to sound casual though he'd just gotten out of a dustbin, ignoring the incessant throbbing in his head. "I could say the same for you, Gin-san, but since I found you come help me out with groceries", Shinpachi's voice is level and he smiles evenly. Gintoki's sure he'd given him opportunities to do his straight man thing but there's no call out. The boy looks up patiently through his round glasses and the silver haired man sighs before shoving his hands in his pant pockets and following, an annoyed mumbling of the tune to the new soap commercial dripping through his lips as they walk. "So, Gin-san", Shinpachi begins, at a loss for how exactly to phrase a question of the ridiculous situation he'd found the older man in.   
  
"Why was I in the dustbin huh? See Pattsuan, there are times when we must embrace our manlyhood, and the natural stench of our ancestors as samurai", he tries. He really tries and Shinpachi smiles, "I don't think samurai were ever dumpster divers, let alone people who got thrown into the waste." But the words don't hold the monotonous malice they usually do. Gintoki manages a smile, sighing as he feels bruises starting to form and wondering if they'd heal soon. Shinpachi glances over, then back to the store as he enters and the boy's levelheadedness allows the other to think; responsibility and consequence that had been meaningless to him were suddenly ever so slightly important because of the Shinsengumi vice commander. And so he starts by trying to understand the next most responsible person he knows, Shimura Shinpachi. He's going to set things straight.


	11. Collapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And once the torrential rains flood the cities,  
> Washing away everything we've known  
> Will you still then remember,  
> This bond that we've grown?

Collapse  
Sakata Gintoki/Hijikata Toshirou  
  
"Pattsuan," Gintoki calls lazily, head resting against the back of his chair as he flips idly through this week's JUMP. He doesn't get a reply, so he calls again, "Pattsuaaaan," he drops the open book over his face, dreary absence of care radiating from him. And yet still, there's no reply but the sound of cutlery in the kitchen. Kagura isn't even home to back him up, so this time he lets out an annoyed whine. "Hey glasses wearing a human! Gin-san could die over here in the time it takes you to respond!"  
"And I've told you, Gin-san, that's all I can help with! I answered all the questions you gave! Now you're just _afraid_ is all!"  
  
It's true, he can't deny that he really is just pushing off speaking to Hijikata at this point, by all rights he should've gone and done that ages ago and yet here he is with a JUMP over his face and his hair in a mess. "Is it so wrong to be afraid?" He asks, knowing his voice probably hadn't carried to the kitchen. "I can't just go there full confidence and blurt out whatever I feel and tell him I'd very much like to kiss him. Because I can't do that with people I really care for, and _becaus_ e, Pattsuan," he sighs, lungs filling with lead as his throat chokes up. The next words get quieter as he tries to force them out, "I think he's my first love."   
  
Outside, the crickets chirp and the heat induces a shimmer in the air above the roads. But the window is closed, and Gintoki doesn't want to look outside. "Gin-san, it's not wrong to be afraid," comes Shinpachi's kind voice, as he sets something on the table. He moves around to pick the book off of Gintoki's face, and wipes his hands with his apron before continuing, "And it's not wrong of you to want to wait this out, but if you don't cling to people you love, they'll leave you behind." Shinpachi seems so much older now, "It's _because_ you care, _because_ he's your first love that you need to say it somehow. Even if you're so afraid you want to throw up."  
  
Gintoki lets out a short laugh, pulling his legs from the table and righting himself, resting an arm against the wood instead. "Pattsuan, I don't think I could say I deserve him. Clinging to him selfishly would only cause more problems for him," his gaze is far away, he's going so far Shinpachi isn't sure he can catch up. But this time Gintoki is letting him catch up, and that's more than enough for him. "Gin-san, if you were being selfish I think Hijikata-san would've had you arrested by now," he points out, hinting at the time the Shinsengumi vice commander had stayed at the Yorozuya.  
Shinpachi offers him an encouraging smile before he walks back into the kitchen, and Gintoki realises he's left a piece of cake and a spoon. Maybe the sugar would help.  
  
\---  
  
"Hijikata-san?"  
"Hm?"  
"Aren't you going to eat?"  
"I'm fine, I had some coffee," he replies and is done with that conversation. Yamazaki can't help but notice the slight dark rings under his eyes, the slight shiver in his hand that changes his writing, and the way his frown isn't annoyed anymore so much as upset.   
  
And he knows perfectly well that he's the worst person to try to help, knows that Sougo or Kondo or Shimaru would know what to do and what to say, and he knows that all he has is concern. The Vice commander probably doesn't think very much of him, but that's his fault too, and no matter how hard he tries he'll never be at a level worthy of being acknowledged by him. Yamazaki thought he'd accepted this long ago, but he's still here feeling inadequate and frustrated. He knows if there's anything his superior can trust him to do, he will do it.  
  
His heart feels heavy with worry, and his breathing quickens every time he sees a sign that Hijikata had been lapsing. It's not his place to voice this concern, he knows that too, but he's trying so desperately to rip the knowledge out so he can state openly what he feels. Someone like Hijikata had no place being bothered about just another soldier like him, especially one who'd acted all high and mighty when he and Kondo had showed up in their town for the first time.   
  
He's thankful Hijikata doesn't bring up Mountain Zaki very much, and still has green dye in his closet. "Yamazaki," Hijikata starts, letting out a sigh, "I can hear ya thinkin' all the way over here. If y'gotta say something then say it." And Yamazaki tenses up. He remembers once his superior had told him to be assertive enough to speak his mind when he believed his opinion was valid. "Hijikata-san," he starts, and takes a deep breath, knowing the other is listening to him properly, having set his pen down, "I'm worried about you. I'm worried that you skip meals and don't sleep sometimes and forget even to light your cigarette. I'm worried that you're overworking yourself and that you're not feeling okay. I know I'm nothing more than your anpan-obsessed subordinate who slacks of to play badminton all the time, and I know my worrying doesn't do more than nuisance you, but-"  
  
He's cut off when Hijikata moves closer, lifts his arm, and when Yamazaki's eyes grow wide, he's embraced. "Yamazaki, you should never have to feel like your opinions are less valid that someone else's," Hijikata mumbles, his hold so light a shift in position could break it. "I'll be okay, maybe it'll be tomorrow maybe it'll be in fifteen years, and maybe I'll never get over this but I'll be okay. The Shinsengumi has taught me that if I ever lost my way, I wouldn't be lost alone. Even if I lose someone I care for that much, I won't lose this. I'll do everything to protect this group, because really it's all I have," the words are soft and deliberate, not a streak of hesitance in them, and Yamazaki somehow feels a little better. Or at least, better enough that tears of relief find their way to his eyes and he clutches the back of the vice commander's shirt tight in his fists. He's okay. He'll be okay. Yamazaki promises he'll make sure he's okay.  
  
\---  
  
"Gin-chan?"  
"Hmm?"  
"Can we go on a mission to steal the princess away again?"  
He stops short, eyes widening as he sees the very person he's been avoiding by not leaving the house. On patrol no doubt, and with Kondo. But Kagura doesn't see because she's looking at him instead. "Gin-chan? I know he's a prince, is that why you're mad? Hijikata-kun, can we abduct Hijikata-kun again? Can we let him stay with us? I haven't seen the prince in a while Gin-chan! We had so much fun!"  
  
And Gintoki's face turns a mortified red because Hijikata stops in front of Kagura, cocks a hand at his hip and listens with a faint smirk as she speaks. When she's finished, he ruffles her hair, a small laugh slipping past his lips and a blush of mirth lighting his cheeks causing Gintoki to do a double take. "Toshi!"  
"Hi, Kagura," he smiles, warm and soft and Gintoki knows that even if he was an asshole, Shinpachi and Kagura definitely had not been.  
  
"You used to visit so much! You shouldn't make a lady worry, you know?"  
"I'm sorry Kagura, I was busy."  
"Lets go to the shop together in return!"  
"Some other time? I'm on patrol right now you see?" He replies, drawing the _'you see'_ in English like he's done in Sengoku Basara. Kagura giggles, obviously having seen the anime and adored the English. "And my superior is right here so I can't just leave."  
Kagura pouts, "The gorilla can come too, he can just be your pet. Or he can go be a stalker like he usually does," the words turn to a disgusted scorn quite easily and Kondo manages a laugh, "Somehow the public has a terrible impression of me that I didn't know about."  
  
"Alright then, I'll make a deal with you. Sunday I'll take the day off and spend it with you and Shimura, how's that?"  
"Okay!" She calls, a hand raised in an imitation of Date Masamune's soldiers. Hijikata chuckles softly once more before taking a cigarette between his teeth and raising a hand as he walks away with Kondo. And Gintoki is dumbstruck, because not a word had been said to him and not a glance had been spared in his direction. He's fucked up real bad and he knows it could be too late to fix too fast.  
  
When Sunday comes he has things planned out, and he's had a parfait and some strawberry milk to get enough sugar. He knows Hijikata will be here at twelve since he texted it to Kagura, and so at 11:45 he calls her and tells her the pet shop needed help. This isn't entirely a lie persay, they did want some help moving a few things, but he had specifically volunteered to send Kagura since they knew Sadaharu. She gives him a deadpan, "Why don't you just go instead of sleeping on the couch?"  
"Because, Kagura-chan, they know Sadaharu! They're willing to make him famous by conducting a photo shoot for him you know? But only if his owner is there, you know? Gin-san's being considerate of your feelings!" It's slightly underhanded but those things aren't beyond him.  
  
Kagura really considers it as the clock ticks to 11:50 and Gintoki is seriously about to lose his shit. But then she agrees, albeit begrudgingly, and tells him to make Hijikata wait here and not go pick up Pattsuan on his own. She does however, brush the top of Sadaharu's head for absolutely no reason that Gintoki can comprehend, and he's almost given up when she steps out at 11:58. "Kagur-"  
"I'm sorry, Toshi! I'll be back in half an hour okay?! Wait here with Gin-chan please!"  
  
Gintoki all but freezes hearing this at the door, and then has to slap himself to pay more attention. He realises, to Hijikata who has just entered the living room, he looks like an idiot. "Ah, see, there was a mosquito and Gin-san doesn't want his skin to be affected by a...bite...," he trails off as he realises Hijikata has paid absolutely no attention to him and isn't even glancing his way. His instincts kick over before he can stop them and grabs the dark haired man by the collar with both hands, shoving him against the wall. Aggravated desperation seeps into his voice as he berates the other, "You gotta listen when I talk dammit! The hell did your mom teach you?! To ignore people who are obviously talking to you?!"   
  
He has to stop _now_ before he _screws this up again_ , so he clenches his fists and he can't quite bring himself to step back so instead he forces his head down, "Hijikata, _please_ , don't **ignore** me like that I can't-" he runs out of words, mind going blank as he fumbles, "I'm sorry, I can't control my instinct to push people away and fuck myself up and get drunk and do stupid things- I-"  
And here, as if he hasn't ruined himself enough, the tears he'd been fighting come cutting through his cheeks and down to the floor, "I don't know how to do anything for anyone I care about and I got so close to you I was afraid of my own feelings and really fucking terrified of losing you, so I pushed you away myself so you wouldn't run and- _fuck_ can you just hit me? I deserve it _I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry, Hijikata, please listen_ ," and here he stops himself.   
  
His breath hitches and his chest collapses in itself with the weight of the words he's about to say but Kagura's footsteps are bounding up the staircase with her bloody dog so he has to say it now. " ** _Hijikata Toshirou, I love you_** ," he breathes, looking up into glassy eyes that might just be his own reflected, and the door slams open. He can't bring himself to be convinced the hand that squeezes his arm is his imagination, because he so wants it to be real, and the door closes softly when he swings his fist at the wall hard enough to split his knuckles. And he cries, on the floor, in a mess, alone.  
  
Shinpachi doesn't know what to make of it when Gintoki asks him for the first time what it's like to have to keep up his maturity. He doesn't know how to answer either, so he just tells him he isn't trying to do that. The second time, he's asked what to do about an unrequited love and Shinpachi asks how he knows it's unrequited. Gintoki didn't give him an answer to that. But the questions didn't stop, about Shinpachi having to control him and Kagura, about whether he ever felt unneeded, if he had ever really felt for someone in ways that aren't just care. And every time he comes closer and closer to questions that circle around the Shinsengumi and it doesn't take very long after until Shinpachi finally picks it up.  
  
He tries to ask Gintoki, and when he does he only gets a sad smile in response, and Gintoki leaves the house shortly after. His questions get less frequent, but they're there and Shinpachi answers every one to the best of his capability until Gintoki asks, "How does Hijikata feel about me?" And there the boy knows he has no right to answer, and he states so blatantly. Every question after, he evades and diverts from until he's practically ignoring his silver haired boss.   
  
As he waits for Kagura and Hijikata now, he wonders if Gintoki has seen him, and whether or not things went well. He honestly hopes it had, because things like these just made him feel so helpless when the other two were hurting for reasons he can only guess at since no words are spoken. His sister calls him to the other room for help with cleaning, interrupting his train of thought and there he stops over-thinking. Perhaps he'd stop by the Yorozuya in the evening to check on him.  
  
Hijikata has to leave the minute Gintoki's words turn from harsh to desperate. If he thinks the other cares even a little he'll want to stay, he believes Gintoki should have the common sense to know that and yet the other pleads with him. When the words of confession leave his lips, they fall on Hijikata's heart with a weight so heavy he has to lean on the wall. _He can't understand. He **wants** to understand._ Those are the only two things he's aware of, and his breathing becomes fast and difficult when he tries to work this out.  
  
And then Gintoki looks up at him, and he almost loses it right there. He has to talk to him soon, he just can't see him like this, attitude and events aside. Gintoki hadn't abused him, hadn't manipulated him, hadn't made as much of a mess as he could've. Hijikata needs time to think about this, he can't deny he needs the time and a cigarette and probably a drink but the lump in his throat doesn't allow him to even voice this as the door opens. The most he can do is squeeze his arm and hope it's enough before he leaves, turning the yato and her dog at the door so they don't see Gintoki like this.

And he doesn't hear a word she says the entire time they walk to the Shimura residence, but she doesn't seem to mind very much. They pass the dango shop, a convenience store, a family restaurant, the bank, he tries to register these are all places he's been at with Gintoki before and bites his tongue to stay the tears pricking his eyes. A desperation claws at him from inside out as his footsteps get heavier and his mind gets hazy, and it's only when Kagura catches him that he realises his stumbled. "Toshi? Are you okay?"  
"...I'm fine."  
  
She stops walking, and the handle of her umbrella rests on her shoulder as she speaks, in a voice low enough that nobody else can hear. "Toshi...Gin-chan can be really mean, I know. Me and Shinpachi know it better than anyone else, because we've been trying to ignore it all the years we've been trying to get him to let us in. He's mean when he wants to be nice, and I don't know much of what he does when he goes out anymore because the lady at the pachinko parlour says he hasn't come by in weeks, but sometimes Gin-chan gets really sad and he won't come out of his room. I think those are the days he's been mean to you. Toshi, he's a good person. Gin-chan is really really special, so I'll apologise for him and his bad habits," Hijikata has never heard her talk this much or this coherently but he listens nonetheless, eyes burning and hands clenched and shaking.   
  
"Please forgive him, Toshi," she finishes, softly, her voice the weakest he's ever heard it. But he tries to answer anyway, "I...will try to, because I care about him too." He can't promise more than that, or acknowledge more than that much of his jumbled feelings and wonders how Gintoki had sifted through the mess. Kagura steps forward, gaze still downcast, and takes his hand lightly before turning the corner to the dojo and stepping inside to the courtyard. "Kagura-chan! Hijikata-san! You-," Shinpachi stops in his tracks when he sees their faces, and knows immediately Kagura had spoken up judging by her lower lip having disappeared into her mouth with how hard she was biting.   
  
And, as for what he can see, Hijikata is in about the same state, though his demeanour is much more controlled, and had he been anyone else he would've thought there was nothing wrong with the vice commander. The silence stretches out between them, pounding in their heads louder and louder as each is consumed by their own thoughts. Hijikata excuses himself, and heads straight for the washroom. Otae sees him on the way, and the smile she offers is faint, but it's there and it never would've been had Gintoki not introduced him to her as more than the subordinate of her unfortunate gorilla stalker. The place is a goddamn maze and he'll swear it, he knows he needs to find someplace fast, and his footsteps speed up so much he almost misses it when he finds it.  
The door locks, he slides to the floor against it, and he bites his lip as the tears scorch his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Me and Shinpachi" yes, bad grammar, because Kagura talks like that. Don't kill me.  
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you for reading!


	12. Speculation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it isn't just us involved, people tend to think about us  
> People ask themselves whether we deserve this, and whether they want it  
> Neither us nor them can say it isn't for the other to speculate, and when they bring a smile to your face it's worth it.

Speculation  
Sakata Gintoki/Hijikata Toshirou  
  
 **Hijikata Toshirou has a routine set in his life.** He works every day of the week, he goes on patrol four of those days, he does paperwork whenever he's free and he trains in the evenings. His meals are also routine, it grounds him. His routine and his work and that he could wake up with an agenda is what keeps him sane and aware of himself and his surroundings. But he doesn't know _every_ piece of his life, and he doesn't want to control that much of it. Now he's a protector of Edo, and that may just be what his job entails but he _want_ s to do this. He isn't a rough child anymore, a delinquent running about busting up dojo disciples, conquering whatever he felt like, but the rough child in him had never left. 

 

In actuality, what he'd done then had never been in self contempt or conceit. He'd been angry, annoyed, frustrated, sometimes he just needed to move, and the best way he could think to calm down was to fight. He'd seen the dojo children use wooden swords and so he'd taken one for himself after a fight and carved his name into the hilt with a hairpin he found on the ground. Then, he'd had no direction in life. He was just walking, moving, _surviving_. Filling time. Lethargy soaked into his bones and defensiveness into the roots of his hair, he will never deny who he was then or who he is now. 

 

And now he has a purpose, he protects Edo. It's residents are bitter and harsh that their tax money slipped into the pockets of a group of rough looking samurai, the Shinsengumi gets frowned upon and nobody respects them, but Hijikata doesn't care. He really doesn't. When he helps a little girl get away from a punk in an alleyway, her smile is enough to make his day. When he sees the Yorozuya trio and Shimura Tae, the robot maid and the old woman, the owner of the restaurant he frequents and Kyoushiro-san, things look up. He's not working for the money or the respect, he's a protector, he's a guardian. He's proud of it.

  
Even the routine in his life is rough in it's own way. He never really knows when he'll see Kagura in the street or Shinpachi in a store and they never fail to smile and wave. He probably should know when he'll catch sight of Otae, since it's always when Kondo-san is nearby, but there are times she stops just to smile instead of to shove the corpse of a gorilla at him. And the worst disruption in his routine till date has been Sakata Gintoki. He'd pick fights with him while he was on patrol, interrupt with investigations, cause unnecessary damage and say unnecessary things and leave him with more paperwork than he already had. But he'd sit with him and eat dango, argue about food toppings, and gradually, eventually, he started asking how he was doing and how the Shinsengumi was. 

 

  
He can't lose a man like that, a man who'd forced his way into a routine that such havoc had never been wreaked upon, and has the audacity to walk out after a confession that had entirely caught it's receiving party by surprise. He _will not_ walk out and Hijikata knows this for sure. He hadn't been sure, he had wondered and questioned and spent sleepless nights asking himself _why_ when really, the one he should've been asking isn't himself. **Hijikata Toshirou has a routine, but he isn't too against the breaking of it.** **  
**  
 **Okita Sougo watches his superior write** , the vice commanders fingers shifting subtly against the pen as it scratches across paper. He's slacking off, obviously, but there isn't anyone to tell him what his duty is so he can't be bothered. He does not, however, disturb the man he's watching. Sougo knows he can be a prick at times, and he isn't one to deny something like that. In fact he's quite proud of his ability to piss off whoever he felt like. But past that, past the bazooka and the knives and the arsenal of things he could murder his superior with, past the emotional turmoil and the anger, he cares. 

 

He's fully aware of why he's bitter. Sougo had had everything: a caring sister, an older brother figure, someone who helped him train, unbelievable talent, and smarts no one can recon him having. He'd had everything, of course, until Kondo had brought home a beautiful boy with long hair and so many wounds on him Sougo had almost been scared. His sister treated the wounds, Kondo helped him stand, and both offered to let him stay on at their dojo though Sougo wanted him out the second he was in. He can't deny that Hijikata is beautiful, he couldn't deny it then either, and the first impression he'd had was definitely that he'd love to get to know him; but when he steals away his sister and his older brother figure, who is Sougo to turn to? 

 

Suddenly he can't be selfish anymore and the absence is crushing. And on top of everything else that boy had taken his sister's heart; taken it and returned the feelings and yet chose _not to keep her heart at all._ Sougo is angry, yes, but it's been ten years; a lot more if you counted the ones in the anime where time stood still and nobody aged. And now his anger has mellowed, simmering to a vague heat and through that he can see his immense concern for the dark haired man in front of him now. That's why he's able to understand why he'd beaten up Gintoki in an alleyway, but he can't understand why Hijikata was suddenly silent once more. 

 

Through spending all his time trying to kill the man, he never once tried to know him, and now he knows nothing though he craves to know it all. Hijikata had come back from his day off looking like the plague and barely dodged the knife thrown at him, gone to his room and passed out and come to the morning meeting like nothing had happened. According to the Shinsengumi, nothing did, but Sougo at least notices the thinking. It's never positive. "Hijikata-san?" He asks before he can stop himself, and by way of answer he gets a hum from the man who doesn't look up from his paperwork. "Did something happen with Danna?" He wants to be delicate, but he just doesn't know how. Hijikata knows this too. 

 

The vice commander chuckles, almost smiles and when he looks up, Sougo only sees horror. _Fear._ An expression so sad it's twisted into a semblance of happiness. "...somethin'? Sougo, the bastard told me he loves me," Hijikata says, pen dropping and hand raising to cover half his face, clenching at his hair. It's as if he'd been at the edge the whole time. Sougo wants to find the perm head and this time stick his sword through him right into the wall and leave him there to bleed out. But he wants to help. "Hijikata-san, let me help?" He tries to make it a question but it sounds arrogant. His superior is used to that. "Sougo, I don't think anyone can," he gets as an answer from the lips of a man who's been through too much for the sake of one unemployed albino. 

 

The sandy haired boy doesn't help. He stands, walks around and puts his arm around his superior. He releases that within seconds, and instead clasps the other's hand and drops a head on his shoulder. Hijikata ruffles his hair, squeezing his hand back and his breathing is calm. He's calm, and he thinks, and Sougo lets him. He sits that day in the same position feeling the inherent comfort from being next to someone he cared about. And he feels like he's with his sister, slightly understanding what'd brought her to that standing, and so glad it was the vice commander she'd fallen for. He decides he's happy with who he is now, who they are, and the progress between them that allows for Hijikata carrying an alien trampoline to bounce missiles back at him. **Okita Sougo likes nothing more** than afternoons when all he has to do is watch those slender fingers move across the paper.

**Kondo Isao is a man of his word.** He's boisterous and he's loud, embarrassing and possibly too old to be, but so long as the entire Shinsengumi respected him, he had to have done something right. For his vice commander to follow him so unflinchingly, he's definitely done something right. He'd spent a large part of his time contemplating whether any girl from a dojo near his would like him despite his gruff looks, and the time after contemplating whether the girls in Edo would like him. That is, until, he meets the girl who tells him a good heart is the only relevant trait.   


 

He believes he's found someone who will accept him, ass and all, and that's what drives him behind a woman he now thinks possibly hates him. That doesn't deter him though. He just had to win her over. And in the time he's taken for a woman like that, he feels terrible for leaving so much work to his vice commander. But to Kondo, the Shinsengumi are first. Before any woman and before any love, before his cribbing and hoping and running out of work, the ragtag group of once-samurai are all he can ever think of as family. And at the top of that, with Sougo, is his vice commander. They'd gotten along instantly, almost fluidly, and he's so sure it's because nobody had been as patient to the boy with the pretty eyes. 

 

It's sad to think of, but once he accepts that, he challenges himself to be able to care for the other enough that he forgets what he lost. Hijikata is never ungrateful. He keeps the group in order, trains their soldiers day by day, finishes his work and makes sure everyone else does, even if he smokes like a steam roller and eats mayonnaise like it's water, the vice commander is the reason they can function. And Kondo is grateful beyond words to have someone responsible enough to balance out his carefree nature. He makes sure Hijikata knows that should he ever need for anything, he'd be there first and foremost and before anything else. Hijikata is strong, yes, but he still likes to have someone to rely on when things get much too tough. It could be a shield the size of a building or a few words before the fight but Kondo never failed to have his back and cheer him up. And this is why, when Gintoki walks by the Shinsengumi whistling, Kondo stops himself from strangling the man. **Kondo Isao likes to think of himself as a respectable person at best, and perhaps he is indeed.**

**Honjou Kyoushiro enjoys what it means to be satisfied with his reflection.** He's not shallow by any means, but he can't say he's completely immune to looks either. However, it's only after his surgery that he's able to have conversations, meet people, and he thinks that's quite unfair. Hijikata Toshirou had been the most popular host his club had _ever received_. Alongside the sadistic ever-blunt childish innocence appeal of Okita Sougo, Hijikata is a storm. His angled eyes are blue as sapphire and his lashes are long and catch the light when he blinks, his attitude is polite and considerate to people he doesn't know, and his swearing, language and accent only add to the appeal he has with customers.   


 

And yet past that and his ridiculous popularity as a host, he respects the vice commander as a man. He's not fickle or flaky and he doesn't do anything irresponsible, he doesn't chase after anyone during his work hours, and keeps professional distance from everyone. To Kyoushiro, he's a man who can't be shaken from who he is, and someone people can't help but admire once they get to know him a little. And that's why, when the same Hijikata shows up at his shop without pretense, looking so distant and conflicted it scares the host, Kyoushiro takes him into his personal room and pours some liquor in a cup before he even speaks. 

 

Then he sits down beside Hijikata, and asks gently what brought him here. "...dunno," comes the noncommittal response, but Kyoushiro knows that's his nature. So he sits, poised as he's learned and holds his own glass the way he's been taught is elegant. And he glances over at the other, back against the plush sofa, legs crossed and hand around the rim of the glass he brings to his lips, gaze downcast and the lights above dancing about his features; Kyoushiro sees something he'd never be able to imitate no matter who he learned from. Because Hijikata was this way by nature, and hell, Kyoushiro is almost jealous of him. The other leans forward, lowering his arm with the glass and asks,"...Kyoushiro-san, y'ever have trouble sayin' things to people important to ya?"

 

"I hadn't told my mother I had surgery. It wasn't because I didn't want to, rather because I just couldn't," here he pauses, and Hijikata's blue eyes are on him, waiting, so he goes on, "It was like I'd forgotten how to write when I picked up the pen to write to her. Like I got choked up over the phone." Kyoushiro stops himself from speaking an ugly amount. He's spent so long learning when to stop talking, at a respectable length. But Hijikata laughs, short and soft and his smile is possibly even more attractive than Kyoushiro had thought. He's never seen it before. "Kyoushiro-san, yknow, I get you're a host and all but y'don't need to act so guarded 'round me. I'm a government dog yeah, but I ain't gonna bite ya," he smiles, looking up. 

 

And Kyoushiro can't help the laugh that slips past his lips, but if he's honest he doesn't want to. "Well then I don't know, Hijikata-san. I've had the difficulty, and it's because of that that I've collected so many regrets. Kinda wish sometimes that I'd told her sooner. Maybe that's the answer?"  
"Not to regret your choice?"  
The irony isn't lost on the host, "No, no to tell them soon enough that you won't regret it."  
There's a silence between them that's filled with the clinking of glasses against the table. And Hijikata thanks him, thanks his assistants and the hosts, and waves off a few guests who recognise him. As he'd come, so he'd gone, spur of the moment and a presence to be felt. **Honjo Kyoushiro is an admirer of aesthetics.**

**Terada Ayano doesn't express her care openly.** Though the way she'd met Sakata Gintoki had been unconventional to say the least, she's grown fond of the boy over the years. His simple mindset and survival-based reasoning reminded her far too much of a man she almost fell in love with too many years ago. But Gintoki was like a son to her, and though she demanded rent from him rather violently and threatened to throw him out on the streets, she never meant those things. The boy is self destructive; he squanders money he knows he needs for food on things like pachinko, betting, and alcohol, he takes little to no care of himself, he speaks so carelessly it's a wonder his relationships with people aren't hanging by threads. 

 

To the common observer, this may seem akin to a general laziness, but she knows different after a good many years. He's not lazy, well, perhaps slightly, he just can't bother to care for himself. She believes this to be because he hasn't let anyone care for him for a while now, and though she isn't sure, she thinks he's lost someone who cared about him. Gintoki doesn't talk about his past, about the war, about his involvement, about the Shiroyasha, about _himself_. He talks about the weather woman, about manga, about trivial topics and about food. Sometimes he skips meals entirely, telling the two kids upstairs that he'd eaten already. He does this so those two wont starve, and he plays it down by his fierce appetite when he did eat, so nobody suspects a thing.

 

But she knew. When he stumbled out during early hours and didn't return, when he came back looking like death himself, when he reeked of alcohol so strongly she could smell it from outside her shop, she _knew_ he was doing this purely out of spite for himself. She also knows something is going on with him now as he slips out far earlier and stumbles in far later, or the inverse on certain days that followed a pattern she recognised without giving it much thought. She knows it's because of that Shinsengumi boy with the straight hair and the glaring sparkling eyes.  
It wasn't something she wanted to know, but she did. **Otose is good at keeping secrets.** **  
**  
 **Sarutobi Ayame's masochist side had been drawn out by Sakata Gintoki.** Sure, there's the attraction from his dismissive and often violent attempts to get rid of her, and his seriousness to take responsibility when he'd believed he had bedded her. But after this long- she can't remember how long the anime has been airing- she had grown to care for Gintoki as a person. Her attraction for him doesn't fall in any regard, and given the chance she'd make him completely hers, but now she cares for his well being. For his health and his mental state and his smile that doesn't flash any more. 

 

She almost asks one day, but when she peaks through the floor boards she sees him alone, empty glass on the table while his head remains between his knees, body shaking with what the ninja believes are tears. She remembers a few months ago she'd caught the Shinsengumi vice commander in the corner of Gintoki's room in a similar state and wonders if that has anything to do with this. If it does she knows she'll kill him without hesitation, and no small amount of jealousy on her part. The Gintoki who would sing the Doraemon theme song and dance in the kitchen wasn't the one in the Yorozuya anymore, this man was hollow. He held his swagger in front of people he know, confidence echoing and words oozing with contempt, but he was more often that not alone in the big house. Unaware of Sarutobi through the attic floorboards. 

 

When alone, the man hardly moved. He was pale as death, his slightly gaunt features going unnoticed by any visitors to the Yorozuya, and even by the member themselves. She thinks several times to jump through the boards and ask him what's wrong, but it's a sense of uncharacteristic restraint that keeps her from moving. She knows he wants to be left alone. The one time she does come through the regular door to the place, she realises with disdain she'd picked the worst time. She stops mid-squeal, freezing on her run toward the albino and he looks up, gaze riveting her in place. He's never looked like that before. The emotion is frenzied, instinctual, and more than she's ever seen from him before. 

 

  
And yet, instead of throwing her out as per usual, he grits his teeth and spits out, "Shop's closed." He doesn't even have to say the 'Get out' that's implied, she's left stunned, and for the first time, she's _afraid_ of him. And so she leaves, not to the attic or under the floors, she leaves the building to clear her head. Possibly attempt to forget what she saw. She sits at the usual dango shop, and she doesn't think. A man sits opposite her, recognising her instantly and sliding across a paper. Details of a job are explained to her, and she knows it's been a while since she's worked. Work always improves her mood, it helps her focus and fixes whatever concentration issues she may have developed over a span of time. The man leaves, and Sarutobi packs her things. Just as she's about to leave, Gintoki passes her on the street, silent apology on his lips as he slips her a small paper. It's a crossword from a newspaper that doesn't particularly mean anything and has part of the edge torn off, but she smiles. 'How am I ever supposed to stop chasing him when he does things like this?' She really hopes he gets better while she's out. **Sarutobi Ayame is a stalker, but she's respectful towards the object of her affections.**

**Hasegawa Taizou had once been a respectable man.** He'd once held a position of authority, had a wife and daughter to come home to and three warm meals a day in a lovely house of his own. When he sits in his cardboard box at night, he remembers those times and the remote heater and it gets him through the cold. He doesn't blame the Yorozuya for getting him sacked, truth be told it was his fault just as much as it was any of theirs. But he does believe Sakata Gintoki is an honourable man. Ever since he'd lost his job, home and family, Gintoki would pick him off the sidewalk from time to time and drag him to a bar or a casino as if they both weren't piss-poor and they drank and gambled as if it were dirt-cheap. They've been kicked out of countless establishments and cheated their way out of countless others, but Gintoki doesn't seem to care very much. 

 

At first he wonders why, but then he realises the only way Gintoki can pay him back for what he'd lost is by giving him time. He had no money, no land, no gang to get his life back, but he had time. He could swindle, cheat, and twist facts at the drop of a hat, but god knows the man couldn't get a staple job, not having much formal education in anything at all. Hasegawa doesn't resent his loss of job, on the contrary he's working towards getting a new one and fixing his life, and in the time it takes to do so he's all the more glad for the presence of guy like Gintoki. It's because of the albino that he'd started to see the little things he'd been missing till now, that people did things they didn't enjoy for people they liked, that any negative situation had a positive solution, and that the nature of an old friendship can't even be cut off by a crime syndicate and a thousand miles.

 

Hasegawa learns to appreciate the street lights that keep him out of the dark, the cardboard box he has to sleep in, that the park assistants didn't kick him out during the day, and he's working towards getting it all back. Thereby it affects him quite a bit more than it should have when Gintoki brushes past him one day saying he wasn't going to play pachinko, and comes back with a little bag slung over his arm and a receipt. There's a bill. Hasegawa is confused, and quite a bit scared. And yet he doesn't ask, doesn't quite need to either, but he prays to the God of cardboard boxes that things would sort themselves out and he'd get his drinking partner back. **Hasegawa Taizou has never stopped worrying for people he cared about.** **  
**  
 **Tsukuyo is, without a doubt, level headed.** She'd been confident enough at an age too young to mar her face; the sacrifice had been of little meaning in exchange for being able to protect the moon of Yoshiwara. The years haven't been kind to her, she hadn't expected them to be, considering her location, and yet through all of them she's matured. She has never once faltered, every shaky experience building only that for her: experience. She learns quickly, even after she doesn't have a teacher anymore, and she picks up tricks and strengths of her own along the way. 

 

It's disconcerting to her that the Yorozuya had changed a large number of her morals, without really changing them at all. Gintoki is a storm, a saviour for the town she's protecting, for the woman she's protecting, but at the same time he's the soft waves that remind her the beach isn't about tsunamis. She'd been living so long holding up a shield and throwing knives to the calm water of low tide, and Gintoki had laughed in her face without any ulterior meaning and reminded her that there's moments before the flood. Hours. _Days_. And she stands ceaselessly ready to fend it off? It's laughable to her as well, and he hasn't even told her to stop what she'd been doing. Not once till now had she met someone so enigmatic, and still so open. 

 

It changes her in ways she won't admit, and Tsukuyo is the kind of woman not to deny when anything happens in her life. It's no secret she holds feelings for Gintoki, she knows it herself, but these aren't possessive feelings, or even protective. She loves him in a way that keeps him free, she doesn't want him to herself and doesn't want him to fix up his life, she doesn't want him to fall for her and buy her flowers. She wants him to smile, to stop looking so sad at times, and most of all she wants him to be _satisfied_. He never has been, from what she knows, and most likely never would have been. 

 

But then she meets Hijikata Toshirou. She sees colour in Gintoki's face when he's shooting backhanded insults and sees a sparkle in his eyes when he mentions the name. It's followed with exaggerated negative reactions and lamenting, and she can't tell if anyone else had _noticed_ , but Gintoki is more free with himself when he's around the Shinsengumi Vice-commander; ironically the most chained man of all. From the position of a defense force authority, she respects him. She respects Hijikata's subtle nature, the calm way he analyses things, the more logical solutions he gives even if they're difficult. And in his own way, he cares for every one of his soldiers. It's a resignation she's happy to make, because what she feels is a pure kind of emotion. She can't deny the rawness of it, and that if she let herself admit it there are a wide variety of selfish things she wants. **But Tsukuyo loves Sakata Gintoki in a way that doesn't bind him.** **  
**  
 **Sakata Gintoki feels like garbage.** That is to say more garbage than usual, since he _always_ feels like garbage. He'd fucked up. There are so many things he could've done differently and all he can ever think about is what would have happened if he did do something different. It's always been that way, since he wonders what would've happened if he hadn't taken Shouyou's hand as a child, what would've happened if he'd refused to fight Takasugi, if he'd killed more people, if he hadnt spoken to Katsura, _if,_ for _fucks sake_ he could _stop screwing things up_ it would be nice. There are things that adamantly stay the same though, like Shinpachi's smile and Kagura's speech pattern and the old hag's nagging, and he swears sometimes that Tama kicking the door down at the usual time or Sarutobi crashing through the ceiling is enough to bring a sense of balance to his toppling world.   


 

He tries, really, to be responsible, honest and trustworthy, to save up money and get a stable job, but it just doesn't work for him no matter how hard he tries he's uncomfortable and at times disgusted and he gives up. _It's voluntary isn't it?_ He tells himself that every time he quits. And then he thinks that he could've managed and he regrets it every single time. But _Hijikata?_ He doesn't regret a _damn thing_ about meeting him. The first time he saw him, the other had challenged him and his hair had been swathed in colours of the afternoon sun and the black leather of his uniform had brought out his pale skin, lips pressed together in agitation that Gintoki hadn't understood then. 

 

He does know he could've been nicer from the start, smiled and spoke politely but he also knows that it's because he didn't that Hijikata hadn't left or written him off as a regular citizen under his protection. Gintoki, if he could, would have changed everything since the night he left though, since Hijikata had left the Yorozuya. That was the exact moment he had made a mess of everything, and the exact moment were he'd felt regret for anything with relation to the dark haired man. And now he's sure Hijikata hates him and he wishes he'd have kissed him. He considers that, and then realises he doesn't actually wish that because he would only want it if Hijikata had _said_ he could. 

 

Since he can remember he's had a way of blocking himself off from people, his carefree nature something that had developed along the way and he just doesn't know how to try. He doesn't know how to enjoy waking up to work and diligently finishing tasks, even menial work like exercise. It's such a pain to him that his insides will churn and even getting up will become a problem. So he wanders from place to place looking for easy money and odd jobs and an attitude that tells anybody not a customer to get lost and that they're wasting his time. It's true, but even he admits it's rude. He just doesn't care after all this time. He's also terrible at sorting things out, he'd very much rather let people believe what they want than take the time to fix anything and he has absolutely no idea how to express genuine affection for anything. Well, except maybe sweets. 

 

It's true that so far he's never done anything but sit back and let himself screw up, leaving himself in the consequences as long as nobody else was involved, but he really wishes less people would get hurt because of him. Gintoki genuinely doesn't think much of consequences affecting him, a jail sentence, a huge debt, being beaten up, even execution sentence, they don't mean anything to him. But when locks of a rosy tea shade had touched the blood soaked ground of battle, dirt threading through the smooth silk, he just couldn't feel anything but _helpless._ Anger, fear, _rage,_ yes but for those things there was nothing he could do. 

 

He could only be angry at _himself_ , fear the choices he had made and the outrageous decisions he'd taken upon himself. He can't blame anyone else when prim kimono shades are dyed through with a seeping crimson that seeps into the gravestone she leans against. He had sworn to protect both. Life doesn't go his way. And that's why now, today and onward he won't let people take anything from him no matter the excuse. He will fight back. Until they themselves wanted to leave he would fight for what they had and what makes up his home: all it's unlikely residents. **Sakata Gintoki makes a decision to face his situation head on, in his own trashy way**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never seen any interactions with Kyoushiro in this fandom and his name isn't even a real tag what the hell he's so interesting to me?  
> Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Kudos and reviews are always appreciated!


	13. Cauterise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stumbling back into the light, you and I  
> We don't recognise each other but we cross paths anyway,  
> I'll take this time to wait for you, as you have done for me before  
> So let me find you again.

Cauterise  
Sakata Gintoki/Hijikata Toshirou  
  
_**Shimura Shinpachi is a mediator.**_ It's not in his nature to stand by as people disagree, fight, and even break connections with a few faulty words at faulty times. Perhaps it's because he can't stand to see years of relationships go to waste over a drunken slur or friendships fall out without a reason. He values connections more than anything else, he values what people treat him as- since most treat him like an accessory or a joke- he knows for sure that there are people who could care. Shinpachi isn't arrogant enough to assume anybody would care about him to lengths of being _open_ about it but he does know that Sakata Gintoki will defend him when it comes to it. 

He'll joke and jab and dismiss him whenever he feels like it, but if and when Shinpachi is in trouble, Gintoki will be what stands between him and the beating he might've taken. It's no secret he's better suited to politely taking a seat at a table and serving tea than he is to be wearing a kendo suit teaching people but he tries his hardest and hopes it's enough. He hopes his sister isn't disappointed and his father's smiling somewhere. It's this awareness, that he's not worth what he puts out to be but he's worth _something_ , that tells him directly that Hijikata Toshirou cares for him in a way completely unlike his silver haired boss. 

Hijikata would get up some days to cut vegetables or clean dishes, on other days to hang clothes and help scrub the grime from walls and floors and he can't be more grateful. Gintoki never said anything when Hijikata helped him out, so he'd assumed it'd be alright. Shinpachi can't help that he's become attached to both of them, to Hijikata's quiet smile and Gintoki's too-wide grin, and it's not his place but he doesn't like it when they're upset. When Hijikata's eyes resemble a destructive storm on his impassive face and Gintoki forgets to ask for his parfait, Shinpachi notices. He knows there's nothing to come of his noticing, but he sure as hell notices and knows to keep it to himself. He can only hope time will prompt one of them to try to fix what they've broken because they're right for each other even only as friends. _**Shimura Shinpachi tries his best to remain in the sidelines.**_

"Kagura, Pattsuan, I'm going out. Don't destroy the house," the call is cheerier than usual and Kagura doesn't seem to notice; she doesn't even move from her spot in front of the television but Shinpachi smiles and tells him not to be too late. Both miss the jingle of coins in his pocket. In his _purse._  
He spends the day doing a series of jobs he'd scavenged and resisting the urge to step into a pachinko parlour with what money he's earned thus far. 

Tsukuyo hears the clink when they cross ways on the roads and she turns, Gintoki hopes she won't ask. It seems like she's heard him because she doesn't say a word, only falls into step with him and asks where he's going. He doesn't bother explaining his situation or what he's doing but tells her he has a job to get to. She chuckles, wondering what had driven him to start seriously saving up the cash from his work but she can guess. He knows that and is glad she doesn't bring it up. It seems he's taken a wrong turn because now they're in front of Takamagahara, the host club.

"What's this, Oogushi-kun, I didn't know you had such a hob-"  
"Don't," it's Tsukuyo that interrupts him, hand covering his mouth and she steps to claim Hijikata's attention since he'd turned. She nods to him, and he offers a nod in return but that's all they speak before Sougo is growling in their direction and Yamazaki scrambles out of an alleyway to join them. Gintoki nearly snaps at her for interrupting him in the first place because _what right does she have_? Who's _she_ to question _his_ decisions and _his_ attitude when it didn't impact her at all? But he doesn't, he realises he's been done a favour and is able to acknowledge that it's nothing but self destructive to continue like this. But he's always been like this and there's nothing to say for it.

 _ **Kagura knows when to give in to impulse.**_ She knows when it's okay to do certain things and when it's not, though she uses her alien nature to act unaware and feign ignorance when things she doesn't like are brought up. One such thing is the matter of Gintoki's behavioural changes, the longer hours he sleeps and the less he eats, the more time he spends outside and the fewer times he accepts jobs for them to do have some relation and she has the discretion to try to find it out on her own instead of directly asking anyone around her. 

Sure, she's young and hasn't had the experience those around her may have but that doesn't make her necessarily a child; she knows who she cares for and how much, she knows what lengths she'll go to to defend them and she's willing to sacrifice more than she lets on. But it's the childish nature still in her that prods the selfish desire to see Gintoki _content_ with himself once more, to see him glad for the lazy days and rearing for the not-so lazy ones. And just as much on those lazy days she'd like too see Hijikata in his yukata at the Yorozuya, watching TV with them and eating snacks that Shinpachi is always so eager to make or buy. 

She knows she's more likely to see the officer at a crime scene or the Shimura residence fetching his gorilla boss but that doesn't deter her from wishing what she does. Though she might've hated Hijikata at first- just the idea of anyone close to that sadist bastard brought a ruse out of her- she comes to realise sooner than she thought she might've that he's more on her side than Gintoki and Sougo. Hijikata keeps things together, he gets along with Kagura and Shinpachi and anyone he tries to, he doesn't put Katsura's label on them though easily he could and he keeps the difference between friendship and affiliation stark and in view. 

He doesn't overlook it, but he knows that though Gintoki had participated in the war and Shinpachi and Kagura had accompanied him to rescue Katsura more than once, friends is all they are. She's not self centered enough to demand his presence where he isn't comfortable and doesn't want to be but she's still young, she still excuses herself for being childish enough to want him around as much as she wants Gintoki around. _**Kagura won't deny her age, rather she uses it as her impulsive strength.**_

"Where are the tabloids and magazines?" Gintoki has never asked a clerk anything about a book; he's always just bought JUMP and left. If that's not enough indication that something is wrong, the clerk's surprise is. "Uh...second aisle to the left," he gets an answer so he goes there, whistling to himself as he searches through the catalogues and finds the one he's looking for. Buying it would cause suspicion so he sits on the floor in the corner and reads it, flipping through the pages erratically as he searches. The clerk jumps when he hears the frustrated scream followed by, "This is _extortion!_ Who pays that much for _anything?!_ What a useless magazine!"

  
After which Gintoki stalks out like he's been burned and decides to choose on his own. He just doesn't have enough money yet, though his actually working had put a bit in his pocket. Too much work and he would've been found out, too little and he wouldn't have gained anything. The compromise is difficult, but he can't say he's unhappy with the hours of sleep and rest he gets. There is one catch though: he can't go get a parfait and not pay since he actually has the money now. 

Parfaits remind him unknowingly of the time Yamazaki had once offhandedly mentioned his superior being good at cooking when he wasn't overdoing the mayonnaise, Gintoki tries not to think about him in an apron. It becomes harder when he sees him across the street, so he dives into an alleyway and stays by the wall, in the shadows. There's no way any amount of shadow can hide his colour of hair so he runs straight for the wall and vaults over it, wondering whether or not anyone saw him do such an embarrassing thing. Who even runs away from people in a trashy alleyway anymore? 

Nobody comes after him so he's fairly sure he's made it unseen, trotting off to his next job with a whistle as dead as his current mood. He'd take weeks to get even close unless he picks something quick.

He doesn't want to ask Otose or Tama or anyone else who would laugh, so he very seriously goes to the old man's house, the slams of a hammer on metal not deterring him in the least from trying to ring the bell before he broke down the door. 

And, surprisingly, he doesn't have to because the door opens for him and there stands the person he's seeking for advice. But he gets a laugh anyway once his explanation is through, but thinks nothing of it since Gengai eventually just tells him to wait and plods along to the back of the store. "Oi, Ginnoji! I found it!" He calls, louder than necessary but Gintoki springs up and walks to the workshop anyway, glancing over the elder's shoulder as he stares down at a paper. 

"I ain't looking to buy high quality paper or anything, government dogs have that anyway."  
"Aha, so it is for him."  
"It could be anyone in the Shinsengumi."  
"But you know which _him_ I was talking about."  
He actually hadn't thought about that very much, but he _does_ when its brought up and wonders how he'll control subconscious comments like that one. The old man couldn't be the only observant one, and he didn't need anyone else finding out. He realises he's spacing out and goes to flip through the small booklet he had been given, decorations taking on elegant colours across pages.

 _ **Yamazaki Sagaru is a victim of normalcy.**_ Unlike the other cast here, he's a normal guy with a normal life. His hair is normal, it's there, his face is plain and he works as an unimportant subordinate in a job he can't say he loves. He likes video games, coffee in the mornings, sleeping, nice food, sports, but more than any of those things he likes just being normal. It's not his trait to stand out in unnecessary ways, and it comes to his intention that it had been Hijikata who had helped him out with that situation. 

It had been Kondo who'd told him to get off his high horse but Hijikata actually who'd scared the living shit out of him so much he'd run the colour out his hair and shaved the minute it was asked of him. Kondo may be his boss, but Hijikata is the one he respects. He always has, since that day he'd believed he would be cut in half by a kendo-training bokutō. Long hair, blue eyes, and the glare of a demon on a face that belonged on a magazine. All the things Yamazaki wishes he had, minus the mayonnaise addiction and steam-train smoking habits.

For the most part though, he's remained in the shadows for all his life and though he hadn't particularly enjoyed it, it had helped him learn a variety of things. One of these is that he just can't be bothered with the idiocy of lazy assholes. Another is that some people weren't so lazy as they were forcefully detached, and that's definitely something that scared him. He doesn't admire the trait like he does ambition and focus, but he can't say he dislikes it either. All he can confer is that it's _intriguing._

He can't say Gintoki's lifestyle is disrespectful, considering its basically how he lives on stakeouts, but he knows Gintoki is something of a timed bomb. A mess waiting to explode and drag them all to hell. In this regard he sees a similarity, traits he's seen in Hijikata reflected in Gintoki and habits of each other's that they'd picked up. Gintoki has caught the habit of spinning a pen when he was holding one, and Hijikata could now whistle as he walked, though he only once has. There are other traits, surely, ones he can't pick out but this had hit him full in the face. Yamazaki had been so confused he'd checked his temperature. But the vice commander had a voice like music, deep and resonating in it's bass quality and slightly higher added tones, so whether he's whistling or singing, he always had believed it beautiful. Gintoki's whistles however, are loud and boisterous and carefree, echoing to anyone caring to listen that he's not to be messed with because he has no regard for anything at all. It's even deeper, but dips into falsetto from time to time, though he can't tell if it's a joke.

Neither of these things are things Yamazaki can do or understand, but that's alright with him. It's always been like this, he's only a sideline character after all, he's never held much more importance than comic relief anyway. He isn't even Shinpachi with the megane attribute. _**But Yamazaki Sagaru likes being normal.**_

It's not what he'd have wanted to do but Gintoki spends the next few days going through shops from the catalogue the old man had given him, trying to seem casual as he steps into place after place and deals with snobbish employees who turn up their noses at him and rich-looking patrons who can't seem to mind their own business. They're all dressed in damn suits and dresses no matter where he goes and he almost feels bad about his own style. But it's _his_ style, and if anything he's happier in this than in a stuffy suit. There would be an occasion for everything, and though everyone would be used to seeing the high class people in high class clothes, Gintoki would outshine them just by the comparison to his normal appearance. He's aware that comparison is not unlike the Cinderella bedtime story. 

Still he searches, every hour he'd normally spend at casinos and betting parlours, every minute he'd normally be getting drunk. Because this is important to him in a way few things ever have been. It's not an appeasement gift. He won't give it away the minute they speak. It's something he's buying for himself as much as it's for the receptor, a token to the fixtures they are in each others lives and how long it's taken him to realise that. It's his own work and money that will be put into this and he's so sure he'll probably never do this again. 

It itches, drains him physically and mentally, and every second he doesn't spend the money feels like the tightening of a noose. Like he suddenly believes he has the _right_ to earn, to be _capable_ of living. He _doesn't,_ he _knows_ this. He doesn't _deserve_ honest work, honest money and an honest house. But he knows exactly _who_ does and that's why he's doing this. He has to remind himself of that daily as he rejects another store and crosses it off the list he's made on a scrap of paper not big enough to be anything but a bill. Not _his_ bill, of course. He pushes open the glass doors of what will be his sixth shop in the day.

  
**_Tama isn't capable of expressing emotion_**. As such, she's not capable of expressing raw concern, worry, frustration, or even confusion as she notices the erratics in the system she's memorised around her. All she can do is ask Otose, whose eyes widen, who then tells her not to mind it. The Shinsengumi patrol used to pass their shop once a week at least, now she rarely sees them more than once a month. Sougo doesn't come on his own like he used to either. Kagura goes outside more. Shinpachi pays rent once in a while. Gintoki, who used to be downstairs every night he wasn't at another bar is never here anymore. He doesn't come to get drunk in the afternoons or swipe a cigarette from Otose, which had been much to the chagrin of the robot maid, who's aware of the dangers of smoking. 

Her timely breaking into of their residence upstairs doesn't even yield the chaos it used to, or the hiding of it's occupants, which Tama is sure would be amusing if she could be amused. It's as if the roads have lost their north breeze. There's still life, still people and things that haven't changed. And old man and a female ninja hiding in the attic and under floors, visitors who's names she doesn't know, a routine series of noises and complaints from upstairs that at this point are a positive sign. It's always in a robots best interest to make sure their owners are in their best state, both physical and mental. **_Tama can't comprehend why people feel what they do, but she does wish to be able to._**

  
Finally, finally Gintoki is able to procure something similar to what he had in mind, and when he spends the money he almost feels a pinch. Because he's _paying_ for this, with money he _earned_ when he could've taken this from a damn ring toss. Still he gets it packaged, gift wrapped and picks up a small card at the end. He sighs too deep as he keeps it in his clenched fist, inside the sleeve pocket that he doesn't normally use of his yukata. 

The streets aren't crowded as they normally are, he can look to each face in the crowd at his own pace, something he doesn't usually do since it's not worth it but he's searching now. _Searching for someone._ The thought itself doesn't sit well with him, it's not how he works or how he does things but here he is scanning faces as they pass, palms sweating and heart pounding like a school girl. 

He sees Sarutobi, possibly returning from a job, but thankfully she doesn't look across the street and spot him. She's walking with Hattori Zenzou, apparently having an argument with him that Zenzou seems all too done with. Honestly he can't believe either of them were ninjas sometimes, they're so goddamn careless. He should've been warned when he saw the famous Afro of the Shinsengumi, who's name probably starts with s but he can't be sure. The Afro darts back and forth between alleyways and pillars so fast Gintoki pegs him a ninja immediately, but then he's gone and he's lost the chance to ask him about his superior's whereabouts. 

He sees Zura next, and wonders how in gods name he's seeing everyone he knows on these streets but not _him._ Katsura tries to flag him down, but Elizabeth thankfully drags him off as he calls, "Oh, he was a fake huh? You're smart, Elizabeth!"

Well, if the shoe fits. At this point he stops, trying to narrow down his search to the nearest cigarette store or dispenser before he realises that's the one right next to where he's stopped- an old man reading a magazine at the entrance, his arm awful close to the glass. It's just his luck that Sougo walks up to him instead of Hijikata.

 _ **Yagyuu Kyubei has confidence in her self respect.**_ There have been many things leading to her current position, among them her upbringing and characteristic personality, her deep voice and androgynous features, her own issues of self esteem. Though it has taken years of discipline and acceptance, she's finally learned to accept all that she is and all that she can be. She's a lady, with all the strength of a man, a fighter, with all the gentleness of a woman. And who indeed will question her identity to her face?

Self respect is something she learned through practice, and something that she realised along the way echoes in behaviour. When she had first met Hijikata Toshirou, it didn't take long for her to acknowledge and respect his samurai behaviours. He's strong, regal, respect worthy and treats women with respect and care. Rather he treats everyone with the respect they are due, and if that means the homeless drunkard is worth not even a glance, so it will be. His slang befits him, and over the years she notices he's a warrior of a golden age and a warrior of today, fitting in where he could be standing out horrifically. 

And that's exactly what Sakata Gintoki does. He's loud, obnoxious, crude and vulgar but Kyuubei still cannot deny the inherent samurai traits he displays. They're less obvious, more concealed over a layer of whiskey but they're there, nonetheless. His actions may seem meaningless or overall disrespectful but at most times beneath that there's a motive he has. Unless, of course, he's at the pachinko parlour.

  
Kyuubei may not be the most perceptive person in Gintoki's contacts, but she is one of the few who knew Gintoki and Hijikata equally. Equal enough to notice they'd stopped coming to the bar together, stopped speaking of and to each other, and overall begun to act like they'd never had connections to each other at all. Kyuubei doesn't believe it's fair for them to assume nobody would notice the terrible moods they're both in, the fluctuating behaviours and slip ups they make that even she can see. She knows her place, it's not between them, it's not to ask. _**Perception is different than question, and Yagyuu Kyuubei has always taken to an honourable code.**_ ****

The tension in the air echoes thick as an iron string, swirling around them as Sougo's teeth pull up and he has to clench his fists. Gintoki doesn't reach for his bokutō. It's his voice that breaks the silence, "Soichiro-kun! You wouldn't happen to know where your boss is would you?"  
"Kondo-san is not here."  
"That's not the one I meant," Gintoki rests a hand at his hip, keeping his aloof expression about the younger boy. Hijikata slips out of an alleyway, tired gaze searching the crowd till it spotted Sougo, and the man standing next to him. "Sougo-"

  
His voice holds no malice, a mild irritation and an eye roll he knows is coming being the only indicator, and Gintoki curses softly. The dips of his cheeks catch the light that brings their lighter tones to attention, planes of his neck just shaded perfectly and his clavicle dipping past the yukata he wearing that shades his skin. His eyes glitter in the afternoon sun, light flecking through with it's warm colours and Gintoki can only think, _gods,_ he's beautiful. 

"Yo, Oogus-"  
"It's Hijikata," the other doesn't even let him finish before he's walking, right past Gintoki's shoulder and his eyes widen. Sougo smirks and slips into the convenience store behind him. Gintoki can't let this happen again, this time he can't be the self destructive bastard that lets him go. So he whirls around, hand clamping at the other's shoulder and he knows it won't even be a minute till Sougo is back. "Hijikata-"  
He isn't slapped, or punched, or kicked away. 

There's no interest in the impassive face of the Shinsengumi vice commander, and Gintoki wonders if that hurts even more than being hated. " _I'm sorry._ I'm sorry, I know, I fucked up and I _shouldn't have_ and I- _please_ , please listen," his grip tightens and he knows, cloth crumpling against his hands. He has to avert his gaze because he knows he looks like a crazed lunatic. But cold fingers graze the hand on his shoulder, gone as soon as he can register them, but the words he knows will haunt him for days are the faint, "I'm listening."

"Can I meet you? Can I see you? Any day, any time, just once. If I do anything you don't like you can leave and I'll never talk to you again." It's a tall order, the and he isn't even sure of his promises but he has to do this. This is the only choice he has left in this situation. Sougo steps out of the convenience store. His time is up. "Next Friday, the usual bar," the words are short and terse, like the tone he delivers them in and his expression that's only changed a fraction. 

"Danna, what the hell do you think you're-"  
"Sougo," he doesn't say the implied, 'that's enough' but the boy falls silent anyway, bag in one hand as he settles for just yanking Gintoki's arm away and waiting for his superior, who nods faintly before turning and he's gone, the gift wrapped box is still clenched in Gintoki's hand. He's practically giddy from the two sentences that were spoken to him, heart hammering as he thinks he'll actually get a chance to fix things. No doubt he'll fuck it up, both Hijikata and himself know this, but the other had agreed to listen anyway; something nobody else would have done.  
From the looks of the sky, it's going to rain. Gintoki turns his steps to the park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! The support and comments I've gotten from this story have been overwhelming, and had it not been for that I might've stopped writing it so long ago. As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated :)  
> (Psst, anyone who reads my other GinHiji story did you catch the ref?)


	14. Roadways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It shouldn't be this easy to sort this out  
> It shouldn't, I know, you know, but it still is  
> Because we're more than that,  
> You know it, I know it, and it's what keeps us here

Roadways  
Sakata Gintoki/Hijikata Toshirou  
  
Gintoki had to remind himself to breathe more often than not. His attempts to act indifferent wouldn't even hide the excitement and he's such a _wreck_ at the same time, knees shivering at the thought that _this was it_. This was what he had tried to work for, to push himself for, and now that his pockets are empty and he's blown some savings on pachinko he feels spent. 

Satisfying himself was an impossible task that required both to be the best and to drop off the face of the earth, ranging through various stages between the two that he can't even try to understand. So he hasn't satisfied himself with his empty pockets and hangover-headache on the day he's meant to meet Hijikata, he's satisfied his modesty check. 

That's the nicest thing he can call it because it keeps him from the arrogance that comes with what he does. Really it's a self destructive radar just ticking to it's explosion and he's speeding up the dial without a second thought. It's a rather delayed panic when he remembers where he has to be and when, the clock reading four hours before the meeting time seeming like fifteen minutes before as he goes about what routine he can manage in his current state. He's even half expecting to be stood up, the rational part of him telling him _Hijikata wouldn't do that to anyone_ , but his own mind was convinced it was possible. Thereby what starts as obsessive turns to time-tickingly maniacal as he stands at the entrance of the bar looking miserable _three hours_ before their arranged time. He doesn't notice the dark haired boy slipping out of the back holding a badminton racket.

\---

  
Hijikata can't ever say he's becoming better. He's tried, some days he'll fight every soldier in the Shinsengumi or finish every last sheet of left over paperwork and he'll still think, 'What the hell am I doing?'  
Because no matter what he's doing, he's always disconnected from the job and it's entailments. The daily occurrence of crime hadn't left him numb, rather it kept his blood pumping with the thought that he was working towards fixing that. It's the only way he can motivate himself to get up. 

He's afraid of himself. He's afraid of his brain that wants to suffocate him when he slips out on duties even for a split second, afraid of his gut that's doubling in gravity as he tries to walk and more than anything afraid of his own situational thoughts. His reactions are so instinctive he doesn't even have the time to add his emotions to the mix, acting only and always on calculated impulse, knowing his limits and how far he wouldn't go had he focused on his emotions. And that he doesn't is the point, he can't take back what he says and does no matter how impulsive they are, how differently he would've done them had he involved his own feelings in them, and worst of all is he doesn't regret even one of those decisions. Leaving Mitsuba, killing her to-be-husband, following Kondo, killing everyone who'd hurt Tamegoro; he'd make all those decisions again.

But, though nobody knows this, Hijikata is the kind of person who respects a conversation for it's conversational aspects; those are lost the minute it's interrupted, therefore he's just really against people butting in on his affairs of self, against the interruptions and the working of socialites in their medium. It's his purely logical actions that cause a wide variety of problems before he can consider solving them, and this coupled with his general dislike for socialising drew him far from the relaxation of company. It's because of this process though that he was able to immediately respond to Gintoki's plead last week, ticking the seconds after his hand clasps to know when Sougo would exit the store. 

He had known what was going to be said, and his seconds cut off the breathing he has, he could only think about leaving the second Gintoki opens his mouth. It's terror, he realises, it takes longer than usual but he's afraid of a repeat on their avoidance cycle. He doesn't want to go back to Gintoki only to figure out he's being pushed away again, because he's quite sure he can't handle that. He wants what they had at least, _a connection_. That's why he'd agreed to meet him, though his mind is still reeling from the confession he'd gotten. 

He's regretting it a hundredfold now as he changes, loosely tying up his clothes before leaving the headquarters. Some of the guys in the courtyard faint and fall so he makes sure to remind Sougo of the dangers of heatstroke and keeping his squad hydrated enough not to pass out. Sougo laughs at him, "It's not dehydration." But he doesn't say anything more, chuckles trying to get past his lips. Hijikata pushes his bangs out of his eyes as he walks past the gate; the atmosphere changes, he can't back out now. Sougo watches from behind, hand on his hip as Yamazaki runs up from the opposite direction, seeing all the fallen soldiers and postponing his own words with a, "What happened here?"

  
"Hijikata-fukucho happened."  
Yamazaki also has to laugh, "The vice commander needs to do something about that." The soldiers finally are standing up, shoving at each other questioning if someone had gotten a picture, and Yamazaki says, "The vice commander isn't going to his usual bar right?"  
"I think he is Zaki, why?"  
"...he should know then."  
"Know what? Yamazaki, what are you talking about?"  
"Gintoki." The courtyard's silence whistles to Sougo's horrified expression.

Gintoki sees the minutes tick past slowly, in hysterics as he suppresses a laugh at the table. What's amusing? He has no clue. He's just nervous. An old man next to him asks if he's had a bad day and buys him a beer and only then does he realise he's probably got ridiculous dark circles and a furrow in his brow to accompany the almost-laugh that he can't force down. But the clock, unlike him, is _ticking_. He's only had that beer, the owner is looking at him with sympathy and the old man pats his shoulder by way of an encouragement. Hell knows what they're sympathising with or encouraging him to do. But the second it ticks to their awaited time, Gintoki panics.   


He stands up, palm slamming against the wood surface of the table as his legs shiver and he has to half-stumble to the bathroom into a stall, retching into the bowl and wondering if it's the hangover or the itching crawling anxiety under his skin telling him Hijikata _will not come-_  
He drops his breathing, counting but not getting anywhere, splashing his face at the sink and washing his mouth with soap because that's all that's here before wiping the water off against his sleeve and pushing open the door. It's almost unconscious when he repeats to himself to stop believing Hijikata will be here because _why would he?_ To meet _Gintoki?_ It says again, _Hijikata will not come-_  
But he's _here._

  
Outside the door, in the usual chair next to his, smiling amiably at the owner with a cigarette between his fingers and an ashtray by his wrist. But the cigarette isn't lit and his smile is falling apart. 

"Hiji-"  
Hijikata takes one look at him, a side glance if anything, "Sit first."  
He doesn't, he can't, his legs are heavier but he moves those few steps and grabs onto Hijikata's collar because that's always been acceptable though he wants to hold him- _he can't._  


Gintoki's teeth clench and fingers shudder as he holds on, searching for something in his eyes and he falls through them. They're so dark, like not only the light but life itself has gone out and he's frustrated, angry, and all at once has the urge to kill everyone in this bar. "Yorozuya," the voice comes, calm, even, but it's not cold. Gintoki's grip loosens. It's not them, he doesn't need to kill anyone, he needs-  
"I'll buy you a drink," Hijikata offers, leaning against his elbow and Gintoki sits down. 

He fishes his pockets, doesn't find anything and takes a chance, fishing the other's that are facing him. Luckily it's there. The metal flick of the lighter is familiar, and Hijikata lets him light it, takes a drag and pushes the ashtray between them before he takes the cigarette from between his lips and passes it to Gintoki. The pale smoke that escapes his lips is familiar, and Gintoki brings his lips to Hijikata's hand instead of taking it from him. His presence is enough. He'd been so far on edge he could've fallen off but Hijikata is _here_ , his words are between them and he's not messing up yet. 

  
It's warm, so unbearably warm in a time where it's normally freezing cold and he doesn't think too much when his lips find Hijikata's fingers, brushing over his knuckles lightly before he takes the cigarette. The dark haired Shinsengumi officer blushes upto his neck but he doesn't do more than widen his eyes and drop his fingers. The owner chuckles as if she knows something they don't. "Hijikata-"  
"Don't."  
"Let me-"  
"I'm not in a hurry, Yorozuya," he talks as though the other had to be somewhere, and he really doesn't, but he can't sit in the overbearing silence so long. He needs to say something, and Hijikata knows this but to him the priority is Gintoki's being calm. 

Hijikata lets him down a full glass before he finally sighs, leaning his chin against his palm as he thinks about asking why the hell he's here, but he doesn't need to.  
"Just disregard what I said the other day," Gintoki speaks up.  
" _Hah_? You want me to _what_?"  
"That was uncalled for wasn't i-"  
"You'd better _cut it the fuck out_ if you're not serious about those things-"  
"I _am_ serious! I was and I still am!"  
"Then why would you tell me to forget it?!"  
"Well do you feel anything about it?!"  
"D- _I don't know_!"  
"Then forget the damn th-"  
"No!" He's the one grabbing Gintoki's collar now, irritation and exhaustion seeping through his limbs lighting his veins on fire but Gintoki is patient this time.

The silver haired man holds on to his wrists, slowly, waiting for his grip to loosen before he shifts his hands to the other's cheeks, down to cup his face and he stays. Unmoving. In a spell, almost, fingers shivering before he drops his head against Hijikata's shoulder, "It's okay, I only wanted you to know."  
Hijikata's fists clench, he counts slowly, forcing his breath to even out before he pushes Gintoki upright. "Lets go back."  
"Back where?"  
"To how we were," it's selfish and definitely out of his reach but Hijikata wants it like nothing else. 

He's not looking at Gintoki, but Gintoki isn't looking at him, and he lets the silence stir. He wants to think about it. He wants Gintoki to be near him, with him, to talk to him, but five steps ahead of that was what the other had professed. Hijikata isn't sure of that. He doesn't even let himself think it because he _can't do it_. For _Mitsuba_ , in _her respect_ he _can't_. It's too much too soon spinning his head in confusing spirals around an answer too far out of his reach but he doesn't ask himself why, or even what, he asks Gintoki, "Why'd ya call me here?"

  
"For that slur," he mumbles, smile touching his lips for the first time here and it's embarrassing but Hijikata scoffs in the most pleasant way he knows how, and asks the woman to top up his glass that's been downed before he'd figured. Gintoki is a lot of things, and a definite pervert was among them, along with a shameless stringer, needless lover and the worst pickup line artist south of the red light district. But to Hijikata he's none of those, his words hold and his lips quiver and he doesn't wink or throw pouty poses and lines at him, but he hasn't even accepted the reality of the situation because he's still convinced that day in the hallway of the Yorozuya had been a hallucination so he does the right thing, he goes on, "Still unemployed?"

  
"I work for the Yorozuya."  
"That's unfortunate."  
"I didn't say I was unemployed!"  
"You poor boy!" The owner cries, setting down some snacks with a wink that Hijikata suppresses a chuckle at, reaching for his drink and taking a long sip as he listens to Gintoki's soft laughing.

Gintoki just has a _thing_ for Hijikata's voice. The way his accent slips through his words without the intonation of typical kansaiben, the way his words themselves weave into sentences that convey emotions his expressions do not. And his singing voice is unbelievable as well, though Gintoki has only heard it once possibly by accident and from Tosshi not Hijikata, but the voice is the same and he'll he damned if he ever forgets the swish of his hips and that ridiculous otaku grin watching some godforsaken theme song that even he doesn't recognise.

He also can't believe he's taking the current moment to appreciate the other's voice; it's absurd, really, an hour ago he'd been up to his neck in fear but now that's bubbled down to slosh in his mind that he can ignore with the slosh in the glass and the extinguished cigarette between them. Gintoki watches him, calmly, assessing him, and when he tries to glean a hint of information from his eyes he isn't met by dead gaze anymore. It's still cold, like snow covered gardens, and he can't explain it but he knows it's _there_. The beginning of his steps forward. The first shoot poking through the snowfall, the first bud of the new season. 

It's a pathetic analogy and he knows, but he's much too giddy to think and whoever had said alcohol was the cure to hangovers is apparently right because he's nothing short of elated right now. "Hijikata-kun,"  
"Hmm?"  
"Where's your mayonnaise inhaler?"  
"Where your bokutō is, natural perm," there's a chuckle in his voice but Gintoki does notice he isn't wearing his wooden sword and feels the swell of panic in his chest. He's okay, he can fight if he needs to, he'll be fine without a-  
"Here," Hijikata unclasps his belt, slipping the sword out of it's holster, sheath and all and hands it to Gintoki, without looking at him.

Gintoki's fingers shiver, but he holds on to the hilt and waits for the pounding in his ears to subside, but Hijikata doesn't question him when he falls silent and that's what he's always loved about his presence: the lack of necessity for details, and the incredulous care of those that _were_ spilt between them. That he doesn't have to explain these things to Hijikata, even if he had to explain other, dumber things to him and that there's no animosity in the fears they have of their own. 

Gintoki has lived long enough and seen time pass enough to know when people would understand and when they just wouldn't. 

He's not old though, absolutely not, and he'll deny fervently that he checks the smell of his pillow every morning and sighs in relief and a few stray fallen locks. He trusts his judgement enough to know Hijikata was one of those rare people that he could say anything to, who would _understand_ , and not for the advice either, for the actual relation to the situations for the most part.

Gintoki loves this silence, he hates quietude and unsettled thoughts, he can't stand for bubbling up anxiousness and uncharacteristic worry but the silence between them isn't anything but comfortable so he loves it. When Hijikata moves to sip his drink, Gintoki watches the shift of his throat with a fascination he really shouldn't be proud of. But what could he do when it was _Hijikata_ in question? Pride and all that had gone right out the window the day they'd gotten cuffed together by Sougo's twisted idea of fun. And honestly? If he were to try it again, there wouldn't be too much of unnecessary opposition on his part. 

  
He barely registers Hijikata's comm beeping in his yukata, the radio screech in his mind turning his exasperated, "Hah?" to water as he wonders if maybe, just maybe he could see Hijikata without the damn wrinkle in his brow like he'd been in the hospital. Not that he wishes for _that_ , obviously, but pale skin in loose clothes sliding off his shoulder and the sunlight dripping through lashes he just looked so beautiful, so pristine-  
"What the fuck did you think I was doing, Sougo you bastard?!"  
-if he wasn't so outrageously sure his mind couldn't come up with that image, he'd call it a scam.

"Hijikata-san listen I know you wanted to drink but keep your comm on I've been calling you-"  
"Sougo, what are you- is that Yamazaki-?" At least it wasn't Sagaru, Sougo noted.  
"Yes but you need to go somewhere else just- I'll come and beat the hell out of Danna if I have to but don't-"  
"I know, he's here."  
"But you're going to have to talk if you sit right next to-"  
"I am!"  
"Wait- huh? You're not at the red light district? Not picking up anyone after a few drinks- ah, well, I'm thinking of a different person."  
"What the fuck did you think I was doing, Sougo you bastard?!"  


  
"Relax, Hijikata-san, I know you'd probably rather commit Seppuku than go near the hana-machi."  
He hums, then falls silent, arms crossed and tapping his index finger against the back of the device.  
"You're- I can come get you if you need-"  
This time he sighs, more affectionate than irritated and answers, "Im fine, Sougo. Keep Yamazaki off the 'minton courts."  
Someone from the background enthusiastically calls out, "Yes, sir!" And the device clicks back to static so Hijikata shoves it back in his yukata. Gintoki, somehow, seems not to have heard very much and looks rather busy staring at the wall. 

  
"Gin-" he starts, cutting off and switching to, "Yorozuya."  
And the other's face snaps to his and locks his gaze. He wants to plead for a promise, wants to ask for some reassurance or a guarantee or even a word that they wouldn't fall apart and make a mess again but those things are situation-based, impulse-based and very much things he couldn't control. He might need to pack his bags and leave town the next day and neither could do a damn thing but whisper a farewell so he doesn't ask for a promise. He _can't._ " _Thank you_." Gintoki's smile is pained and it's almost worse than his confession.

Neither of them are drunk, but both of them act the part when they stumble out of the store, Gintoki's arm over Hijikata's shoulder and a smell of alcohol and bad company drenching through their steps. They don't walk too far. Hijikata blames it on the weight, Gintoki blames it on his nausea, and neither will get up off the grass garden they've crashed and fallen onto. Hell knows it's just a regular slope, the river is making it's nightly way feet below but to them it's a garden because it's midnight. Or, probably midnight, who was keeping track?   


Gintoki only leans back so long before he needs to turn, to see Hijikata's arm around his raised knee, balancing his frame on his free hand and looking at the same sky. And then he's much too addled to care about repercussions when his finger's rest above the other's palm, and very much ready to lace them but he doesn't. Hijikata looks at him, properly, with an expression that speaks for itself telling him _'I'm still processing your words I can't answer I can't do this I can't-'_  


  
_  
_ "I know," he sees waves crash beneath glassy dark eyes, sees words he couldn't poking through the sheen and he doesn't need an answer. Hell, what he'd said wasn't even a question, _it wasn't even a question,_ it was nothing but an affirmation. Hijikata's jaw clenches, his gaze shifts and Gintoki doesn't care about anything but their skin contact, merely hands as it is, and isn't really shocked when he loses consciousness, waking up to being laid down against the keyless door of the Yorozuya. Nobody's here, it's black indoors and there's only the figure in front of him, that he has to pull down to be on level with. He stays, with Gintoki's arms on his shoulders and no good reason not to leave, he stays. Gintoki's hands shudder, from the cold or the alcohol he can't tell, he's barely buzzed, and clench tighter; Hijikata, who's slender fingers are around his wrists almost looks concerned. His head drops against the fabric of the other's clothes, the smell of bar-talk, evening homes, grass and the perpetual cherry blossoms and menthol cigarettes.

He gets up, Hijikata doesn't question it, and they walk together again because he doesn't want to leave this mood yet, leave this hour and the warm feeling settling into his chest.   
It's much too dark to see, but the moonlight casts an ethereal array of shadows around Hijikata's bangs and he's so busy looking he doesn't notice Hijikata's eyes on him until he flushes pink and clears his throat. He wants to jump him, right now, but there are words he hasn't said yet and really, if he reconsiders his instinct he wants nothing more than to hold him. Hijikata is the one that breaks the silence, "...what now, Yorozuya?"  


  
He doesn't question the glances or the stare, he doesn't ask about the lack of distance between them on the empty road, but he somehow finds the words to ask where they're going? Gintoki has to chuckle, because he doesn't know really either, "Whatever you want, Mayora."  
The other chuckles, pulling a cigarette out between his teeth from a pack Gintoki forgot he kept, leaving the silver haired man to wonder when he'd picked up the habit again even as he asks for one himself. They're near that bridge, the place Hijikata had nearly speared him way too long ago. How long? A year? It's hard to keep time when time doesn't flow honestly, he's realised this after the first two years of the anime airing. 

Hijikata clearly remembers the bridge, if his glance to the wood searching for scratches is anything to judge by, and Gintoki doesn't tell him they've changed the wood and repainted it because Hijikata probably had realised on his own. The streetlight a little ways off sputters, sparks fizzling out before it makes a shrill noise and gives out, a sudden loss of sight that makes both of them jump and neither of them admit they had. Gintoki can barely see, there's clouds over the moon and the stars now, he hasn't lit his cigarette yet, and he feels a slight panic rise in his throat when he smells smoke. But then he turns and it's Hijikata, hand cupped over his mouth as his lighter flicks on, briefly painting his face orange and he sees Gintoki looking his way. 

When he steps closer, the Yorozuya is curious, then he's close enough to feel his breath and he almost passes out. But the dark haired man only brings his hand up again, lighting the cigarette clenched between the other's teeth and waiting as Gintoki's lungs unclench, soft breath billowing smoke around Hijikata in rivulets that weave through his hair, which follows with his addled brain sending his fingers past the same paths, tangling in the straight locks as they stand, the only thing granting them visibility the amber glow of their burning cigarettes and he's more surprised that the other doesn't move but his hair is so soft it's unfair. 

  
"What product do you use? Any setting spray? It's too soft to be gel or mayonnaise-"  
"Nothing really, the product they stock at headquarters."  
"You don't buy your own-"  
"I think Sougo is the only one who does," his answers are longer than normal, sentences slipping past his tongue that dance on Gintoki's mouth that's still much too close, and he refuses to take any of the blame when a small noise escapes the other as he leans into the hand threading through his hair. Self control is an _impossible_ thing.

"Gin-", he starts, cutting himself off as his heels tip and he has to freeze up not to stumble but Gintoki only hums absentmindedly. He's looking at him. Nothing else, nowhere else, _just at him_ and this is ridiculous for how embarrassing it is but also isn't because this is Gintoki and they don't know the limits of personal space anymore since they're so often up in each other's. Not like this, though. Not in the quiet with hands playing through his hair keeping him frozen and the lights out all through the streets he can see, it's never been like this. He can't see very much around Gintoki's heavier frame but it's all black anyway except his shaded face. 

  
"Toshirou-"  
"Don't do that."  
"Why-"  
"You know why, Yorozuya."  
And he deflates but only enough for his chuckle to be hollow when he mumbles something Hijikata doesn't catch. "Not just yet," he speaks, trying to tell Gintoki this isn't his fault or his nature, it's all _him_ ; _he's_ at fault and he's _tired_ of it. 

"I'll stop if you call me _my_ name," he gets, which is very clearly a bluff because Gintoki will stop anyway out of guilt but he decides to be nice enough just by answering, "Sakata."  
"The other one."  
"No deal."  
"Hijikata."  
" _Gintoki_ ," his breath rushes out with the smoke and when they chuckle the cigarettes fall away between their feet but Gintoki's hands are on his face now and he can't look down, he can't even see more than silhouettes of the contours of his face and god, he's so close. But they don't move closer, their positions hold and their lips don't stray, the weight is warm and comforting of hands on his face but he needs to know, he needs some sensation so he lifts one hand, hesitant and slow, he's never been bold enough to allow himself contact of this level that's not harmful, and the other's red eyes melt to the auburn of sunset when Hijikata's fingers drape across his face, shifting slowly across the skin to map features he's trying to convince himself he doesn't know. But he does, he always has, and the only thing he really notices is that his hand smells like the soap on the silver haired man's lips.

Hijikata's fingers don't stay long, but the drift across his skin is enough to tell Gintoki he's not abysmally gone past his limits. Or he has, but to Hijikata what they had meant more than limits and fuck ups. Gintoki reminds himself to think later if he would forgive Hijikata for a similar stunt to the one he pulled, because he really can't think right now. It's just not fair how close they are, but if this is the distance the other wants he won't move an inch. 

Hijikata's hand moves to his wrist, his cheek turning to rest against the dip below his palm and his eyes close slowly. His breathing is slightly forced, clogged with confliction and Gintoki can tell so he's glad for the contact he's being allowed but not selfish enough to get more. Not _now_ anyway. _He needs to move_. He promises himself just _this much more_ , till the wind stops or till the river is quiet but both happen and he doesn't move, both start up again and he doesn't acknowledge. 

It's the clench in his teeth that's the biggest give when his head drops onto the fabric of Hijikata's yukata, eyes pressing against his shoulder and teeth against his drawn lips as he tells himself to stop being so pushy, repeats to himself Hijikata isn't pushing him away, and resigns to the quiet comfort of a hand on the blade of his shoulder, just light enough. This time his scoff is self destructive, but when that hand closes around the cloth on his yukata he has to ignore any feeling but that. The self destructive scoff turns passive, quiet in it's resilience because this time he believes he _is_ cared for by this man. And that's all he can want, it's too much really, even for his greed-driven, self-centred mind and not for the first time he wants to hit himself. "Hmm," Hijikata isn't really talking to him, the hum isn't questioning or even conversational, it's an acceptance of presence if anything and he's dead tired either way. Tired from the aftermath of the rush of finally figuring this out; exhaustion has many names.

The wind rushes past them, soft and light, it's an hour past midnight and they can't stand here forever. But they don't need forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading! I have too many ideas for stories and not enough time, so I always end up putting off chapters like this, but I hope you enjoy this one! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments, what song was playing in your head? Loud, fervent beats of overbearing noise, the silence of a heartbeat? Soft, slow notes the colour of the evening sky? Music means too much to me.  
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated, and they keep me rearing to put down the next chapter, but more than anything thank you for sticking around with this story, with _me_


	15. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two bottles smash against the pavement but only one pair of footsteps shuffles in it's wake.

Desire  
Sakata Gintoki/Hijikata Toshiro

It's Saturday, Gintoki is drunk and tired and can't think straight but he's warm, giddy and grinning like an idiot as Hijikata's grip on his arm tightens. They're walking through the town, it's not empty and it's not midnight; there's still sunlight out but the dark haired officer is definitely fighting a smile and Gintoki knows that's not a trick of the light. He's still in uniform, sword clinking against Gintoki's hip whenever he stumbles, and he knows the other feels it too even if he doesn't acknowledge or say anything about it. 

He's wondering what route they're taking that's taking him so damn long to get home but decides it doesn't even matter as long as they're still walking. He can still feel the body warmth. He's definitely too smashed to care about how many times his feet trip over rocks and kinks in the road because each time Hijikata just clicks his teeth, albeit fondly and pulls him up.  
It's awfully hot, he's sweating and he knows the other probably is too, clammy palms and warm skin and the back of his neck is sticky with his hair, but it doesn't matter.

Summer is summer after all, and it's worth the excess heat when Hijikata loosens his top buttons and shoves his cravat in a pocket, pale skin exposed to the warm light and it's a wonder he doesn't tan. Then again, his face is also a wonder so Gintoki supposes the laws of nature bent in his favour the way Gintoki is bent in his name.  
It's awful that he can joke about it but his mind doesn't worry too terribly about the consequences so he tells him, mumbles into the crook of his shoulder with a chuckle because he's so _ridiculous_ , so _ridiculously drunk_ that he can't even focus properly on the road but Hijikata's embarrassed flush comes to his eyes in stark quality. Like a flatscreen television view he's too broke to afford.

"I- what?" Hijikata mumbles back to him, stopping his stumble again and righting him by the shoulders. Gintoki keeps his hands there. Stays standing up, grin placid until his fingers wind around the other's waist and he's slurring the, "Do the laws of nature apply to y- I mean you ain't even that tanned, see? Heck you don't have tan are you a miracle? Wait you _are_ , that's not _fair_ , Hijikata-"  
The booze hits him hard as an after-draft, he stumbles, forward and onto the other's shoulder where he can smell his hair and he winds his arms tighter around the other's slender waist wondering what the hell time it is and why the sun is setting.  
Hijikata is still flushed pink when he hands over the grumbling albino to Shinpachi and Kagura who beam at him despite the immobile state of their boss and his incoherent babbling.

It's Tuesday when Hijikata leaves his station to Yamazaki to pass the Yorozuya building, something he's never even thought about doing before but he reasons with himself it's a part of patrol despite being in a different area and _he's only looking for Sougo_. Who's sleeping in the barracks this time.  
"Tossshiii!" Kagura leaps, full force at him from the road, letting go of the giant dog's leash to slam into him, knocking the wind out of him as they both tumble at the base of the staircase. There's half a step poking into his back and Kagura is ridiculously heavier than she looks but Hijikata just chuckles, flush of excitement painting the corners of his face and she grins so wide it's contagious. 

"Do you wanna walk Sadaharu with me? Or go shopping? Or karaoke? We'll call Pattsuan too I promise!"  
He scruffs her hair, lifting himself to a sitting position and leaving his fingers against her bright locks as he apologises, "Maybe next time, hm? I'm still on duty right now-"  
"Mhm, I dumped the waste without separating it the other day," Gintoki cuts in smoothly, Hijikata has to tip his head back to see him, albeit upside down and Kagura is quick to stand and help him up.

Gintoki offers his hands out for the arrest he's definitely not deserving of so Hijikata waves him off, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning back to Kagura who's beaming eyes match her toothy smile and she says her farewells too fast before bounding up the staircase. Hijikata turns, walks around the curve like it's nothing but Gintoki follows with a shake of his head and a remark about accompanying him on his patrol which he ignores with the pulling of a cigarette between his lips. 

When Gintoki denies one, his fingers tingle and it's inexplicable other than the breeze of the other's sigh that sends shivers of memories pricking his skin. He lights his own, three flicks before it finally lights and he waits until a roadside ashtray to tap out the ash. The smoke only adds to the heat, choking his lungs but it also rushes through his singing veins to the forced denial of a smile he's kept off his face so far. "Gintoki-" he wants to _answer,_ it's eating away at him that he doesn't have an answer or even an _idea_ but he wants the other to know he's _really honestly trying._  

Gintoki's arm winds around his shoulder and their walk turns to sync as the other mumbles into his shirt, "It's okay, Hijikata, really."  
He buys Gintoki a parfait.  
He doesn't stay to eat.

It's a bittersweet smile into his coffee cup hours too late for him to be awake that makes him realise this choice would take him much too long and yet it wouldn't be fair for him to do anything with half-assed feelings or distorted ideas. That's not _fair_ at all.  
Gintoki waltzes into the Shinsengumi without a care in the world quite often, and more than once has had to fight off officers who's numbers only grew when he'd told them to lay off. Hijikata has started meeting him at the gates, tired and usually with ink across his pale fingers but it's better than listening to the perm complaining about officers all the time. 

Sougo sees him a few times, and each of those makes a point of irritating him. Pulling sleeves of his yukata, asking what he was doing, sometimes even turning the aim of his bazooka to his silver hair but one word from Hijikata and he's gone. Sougo, Yamazaki, even Kondo, they all cling on to his words so tightly, as if they're afraid he'll never speak again but Gintoki doesn't. He's fleeting, smiling, dark circles and loud words and never once does he bring up anything spoken that has long since passed from the air between them. It's as though he's forgotten, and Hijikata would believe he has, but for the ringing recognition in the glint of his eyes.

"Hijikata-san I can't believe you haven't seen the new season! You loved the first one!"  
"Ah, Shimura, that was _Tosshi_ n-"  
"But you did enjoy the show right?" The gleam in his glasses and the chuckle escaping the other's lips are pure in their content, and Gintoki doesn't have it in him to interrupt so he stays at the couch by the TV shaking his head fondly as Shinpachi describes figurines and DVDs and theme songs to Hijikata who stands listening, arms crossed and leaning against the wall of the entrance looking awfully disbelieving. 

When their conversation moves from the entrance to the living room Shinpachi only turns away enough to ask if Gintoki minded that they wanted to use the television and he shakes his head, pulling Hijikata down by the wrist to sit next to him as Shinpachi busies himself with snacks, drinks and the right disk. Hijikata, somehow, is the only one embarrassed as the younger boy returns, asks for permission to sit close to him and leans against his side. Gintoki barely notices, a little miffed that other people knew how great Hijikata was as a presence, but overall too lazy to do anything about it what with the man himself right next to him and their hands linked loosely. 

The anime isn't lively or terrifying, but every few episodes they pause and have a discussion without really moving, and Gintoki would drop in his two cents but he's content feeling the rumble of Hijikata's chest against his shoulder and the gentle shifts of his hand no matter that his palm was damp from the heat and the his fingers were cold under the sheen of sweat. Shinpachi is awful excited, almost jumping out of his seat to hear every word Hijikata has to say and the latter looks too nervous about the situation, it's laughable at the very least. 

"Pattsuan you're scaring him yknow?" And from the door echoes, "Shinpachi! You can't scare the princess!"  
And Hijikata flushes bright pink, enlarging the smile Kagura throws as she launches herself at him, knocking them both and Gintoki off the couch onto the floor, dropping said couch over them and sending Shinpachi's glasses skidding across the floor.  
Hijikata's breath catches, momentarily and then he shakes his head, joining their laughter as Sadaharu bounds in from outside.

"Danna," Sougo's hand rests against the hilt of his sword appearing casual and yet it was anything but. Gintoki has it in him to offer a humoured scoff; it comes out self-depreciating and fairly apologetic so he sits down and orders two plates of dango before waving off the knife that's thrown at him with his wrist. The knife hits a near wall and sticks but it cuts a small line across the base of his palm and he hisses, wondering why that had looked so easy when Hijikata had done it. 

"Because he dodges _knives_ ," Sougo says, gaze on the one stuck to the wall as he sits and sips at a drink that costs more than Gintoki can pay. Actually the sweets cost more than he can pay because he can pay virtually nothing, but it's something he and Sougo both know, and possibly the shopkeeper too. Probably. The plates are set down with a smile that has the underlying appearance of a demon. Definitely the shopkeeper too.

Sougo doesn't talk much, which is uncharacteristic for him but the meaning of his silence is clear as day, and when he puts down enough money for everything Gintoki is slightly scared. Doesn't stop him from throwing an unwanted jab at the younger boy, dislodging the knife, and tossing it back to him though. Sougo's crossed legs, the slight furrow in his brow and the hand that had never left his blade meant a variety of things, quite a bit of those ran into the territory of violence the pair often communicated in, and so he had understood perfectly the threat and the remnants of disapproval. 

Somehow after that he ends up at a bar, half asleep behind the crowded room in what's probably a fence line, the air is warm, humid with the sweat and heat of the bar's inhabitants and Madao shakes his head when he finds him but joins him only moments later. Gintoki wakes up near the Shinsengumi trash can. He needs a shower and strawberry milk. Doesn't help that Sougo is whistling to himself on the road as he takes pictures with a smug look on his face and at some point he even starts posing. 

"Sougo! How many times do I gotta tell-," Hijikata stops halfway, glancing between the two and at the camera before he covers his mouth with the back of his hand, clearing his throat in an attempt to mask his amused smile. Miraculously, Sougo doesn't pull out a bazooka. "Hijikata-san I think they're spies can we arrest them under suspicion of terrorism?"  
Hijikata laughs, ruffling Sougo's hair as he leans into it, half suppressed grin and admiration that's less carefully masked today and _okay,_ when did that happen?  
Before either of them think of the situation, Hijikata tosses Gintoki a package of pudding and Sougo follows when he leaves the alley.

\---

Hijikata won't try to convince himself he's completely fine. He's working, he's living, he's going about his life and that life's duties but there are times he realises he can't entirely _fix_ himself. Vision that defocuses from time to time, a headache pressuring his temples, a constricted throat that forgets he needs to breathe and more than anything the memories he can't get rid of. Hijikata may not be a teenager with too-long hair anymore but he's still too god damn young, and he feels immature for the emotions that sear knives through his chest on occasion, wondering in hours that are empty whether he should be crying or screaming and both cases he says nothing. The door is unlocked; his eyes stay dry and mouth remains soundless. 

When the clock ticks past it's reasonable hours, more than once he finds himself unable to sleep so he allows himself the clench of his chest, raw burn of his tears that pool on the covers and it doesn't feel any better when he has to wipe them but his palms are damp from the tears and his whole upper face becomes moist, cold as the tears dry and he feels like a mess. He doesn't like doing that, it promises him an early shower so nobody would see the tear-streaks across his face and the shudder in his legs that threaten to give out. 

Some days he decides to take cold showers, they numb his limbs enough to shock them and it's almost piercing but it feels refreshing, chilly and as if he's escaped from the heat. Other times his showers are much too hot for him and his skin takes on a faint red hue, he can hardly feel his body and checks more than once for smoke or steam coiling around him. There's never any, of course. 

He also won't try to convince himself he and Gintoki are suddenly pals or buddies or anything, they still fight constantly, not with the blatant insults but their disagreements turn to debates which escalate to arguments and so often he's storming back to the barracks in a huff taking the pack of cigarettes a soldier offers, not bothering when said officer turns all shades of red. They don't fit, they don't _work_ , and sometimes though Gintoki is the more excitable one, he'll cross his arms and glance at him sideways and talk as if he's five years older with mountains of experience. There's no way Hijikata is immature and yet he feels like it every time the other's voice adopts that tone, he hates it awfully much, and he tends to wonder if he really shouldn't stop talking to him.

He can't do that. Gintoki means too much to him for Hijikata to just cut him out and clean the knife against the uniform for which he has eight spares; he takes his breath shallow and rubs his eyes till the skin feels raw and his tears feel expelled, then he washes his face and is gone for the evening. When he steps into the bar, Gintoki sits by the usual seats, a glass waiting for the dark haired officer who sits and sips, blinking heavily as the liquid burns down his throat, mixing with the ash and tar and when Gintoki has the gall to turn his face, gripping fingers and heady breath, Hijikata almost punches him. 

Instead his panicked fingers twist his arm, drop it when he realises, and all at once he's curled into himself with the force of the violence ripping out his chest and Gintoki's murmuring turns manic, tumbling syllables from his lips and Hijikata is the one to get his bearings first. They're not special, they're nothing but normal and when the bar owner tells them he's closing up that only intensifies the idea, two drunk idiots walking through streets Hijikata doesn't even try to recognise until they're at some godforsaken wooden looking town, patched houses and wooden roofs and his addled brain tells him he knows this place but he doesn't even imagine it as the Jouishishi area. 

When the doors open for them and Gintoki crashes into the mattress beside his, when the lights dye out and there are no candles brighter than their eyes he almost asks where they are but Gintoki mumbles something about exhaustion and pushes stray bangs from Hijikata's face, gently, _so gently,_ he can't believe he's the one who'd thrown punches at him so often and he stays stunned into silence. 

" _Hijikata_ ," Gintoki mumbles, face red and eyes shifting focus and he knows it's the goddamn alcohol but he can't find it in him to be upset when Gintoki's fingers lace with his clammy palms that he knows probably feel gross and a light kiss settles against his wrist, featherlight brushes that move from his forearm to his upper arm, the curve of his shoulder where his yukata has slipped down to his wrist with Gintoki's push and he can't pay enough attention when those brushes move to his neck, his chin, his cheek, higher. 

Their lips are inches apart, close enough that he can taste it and his insides are screaming at him but he tries only to focus on his heart rate to keep it balanced. Gintoki's lips touch his cheek once more, his closed eyelids then fingers brush back his hair again, and then he's had enough and he mumbles the 'stop it' to the quiet space between them but Gintoki freezes. He freezes like he's rusted, eyes widening breathe becoming laboured and there's a curse that pronounces the other hasn't realised. "I swear you were a dream once more," Gintoki answers, staying for all of two more seconds before he's moving off, scratching at his red eyes and almost laughing. Hijikata's head is _reeling._

They do, misshapenly wake up in the Joui district with Katsura looming over Hijikata as his duck absentmindedly pours ice cold water on Gintoki, if the cold chill and chittering teeth are anything to judge by. Katsura continues to observe him, but he's the one who'd imposed so when he's led to a washroom and toothpaste he tries his best to resist the urge to capture the Jouishishi and drag him off to jail. Instead he watches him standing in front of Gintoki's bed as the white haired man rebuffs his accusations constantly and irritatingly and when they're screaming at each other loud enough to wake the neighbours Hijikata doesn't notice. 

His casual clothes are rumpled from sleeping in them, and he tugs at his left sleeve once without looking into the mirror before he shakes his head and drops it, finishes freshening up and leaves the washroom. The duck-alien stands with a towel like an assistant and he shakes his head as he takes it but they've cooperated before, the eye contact they share is enough to prove Hijikata knows Elizabeth's name much as he won't admit to it and Elizabeth in turn won't say a word of their circumstance more then the crinkle of the eyes behind the glassy eye sockets it pretends to have. 

When Katsura stomps by indignantly the last thing he expects is to be yanked behind the Joui and the first thing he does is reach for where his sword should be. Elizabeth's sign says, "Nope."  
"And I'm telling you even if he's Shinsengumi he's too pure for-"  
"And I told you a hundred times Zura you're a fucking Joui rebel! You can't be defending a shinsen-"  
"I can if he looks like _that,_ Gintoki!"  
And to hell with it if Hijikata isn't ten times more confused than before. 

He tunes out of the conversation, occasionally fidgeting at the arm that's gently keeping him behind Katsura, and scanning the room for the sword he doesn't see until the dark haired samurai turns around and his hands are heavy on his shoulders. He shouldn't be uneasy, Katsura is shorter than him, but in this two seconds he feels immensely, embarrassingly small because the other's eyes are burning into his and then his neck and when he speaks his voice is flat but he's nodding with it, "See what I mean, Gintoki? Hijikata-kun I know you're loyal to Kondo Isao but if you even get the urge to defect I'm a _much_ better companion tha-"  
" _Zura_ ," Gintoki's voice is edged, maybe with a joke because he yanks Katsura off and they're arguing again so Hijikata shrugs and goes to one of the Joui guards by the door to ask for coffee, which he gets, and his radio, which he doesn't. 

He's still sipping at a packaged cup when Katsura leads them out, pulling out Hijikata's sword and radio before handing them back, all smiles as he waves them out of a back alley he'd tried to memorise. Gintoki's presence by his side is awfully distracting though, and by the time he finds Zaki he can't remember a damn thing.

It's Tuesday at a street vendor's bar, a cart with food and drinks Hijikata doesn't register until Gintoki's knee touches his thigh and the other is laughing at something the owner had said. He tries to focus; his vision blurs out of Gintoki's face and he hasn't had enough alcohol to warrant that but when he blinks it's gone and the perm is talking again. Hijikata, in the few seconds it takes Gintoki to lace and unlace their fingers, realises by the others half-broken smile that _this is not what he wants._  

Hijikata isn't sure of himself, but right now he wants this platonic, or a blurred line of that until he can figure it out but Gintoki is _damn sure_ and even _surer_ of rejection. He feels like a child with a toothache next to a man with his mouth full of novocaine waiting for his root canal. And, unfortunately, he knows what that _actually_ feels like though he hadn't been a child at the time. He mulls it over the next few drinks, thinks about Gintoki's lips and hands and hair and skin he's seen and tries to think further, _really_ tries but he only gets so far as a kiss before his mind blotches out. He doesn't _want_ more. Not from Gintoki, not from anybody and though the thought of waking up next to him is a calm one, the thought of waking up without him is more likely once he comes to terms with his partial answers. 

They leave the cart, bottles in hand, and Gintoki talks to him, Hijikata asks if he's drunk enough to pass out or if he'd throw up before and receives a, "Fuck you." In response. Followed by, " _Fuck me_." And he means it. Gintoki means it _damn well_ and Hijikata's eyes widen in the sudden confusion, he's about to answer but Gintoki shakes his head, chuckles again and downs the rest of his drink. Hijikata's is empty, dry like his throat in the panic that bubbles up, and though his fingers find their way around the rim there's nothing in the bottle but air. He glances, sees the red tinge around his eyes.

And when Gintoki smiles his heart wrenches and breaks in two so violently he doesn't feel the remorse of leaving the other in the middle of the street when he runs, he _moves_ , he _has to move_ and when he's at his room he trips over himself, stumbling at the cracks he'd memorised but forgotten of the floor even though Sougo is in the veranda looking in through the open door and Hijikata knows at the expression on the others face he can barely make out through the tears that he's the one that's fucked up this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being here, for reading my work and taking the time to leave comments and kudos, I appreciate all of you so much. This little box here is all I get for my own words, that are ridiculously weightless so I won't keep make this heavy. As always, comments and kudos are greatly valued and I really hope you've liked this chapter too.


	16. Heady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the heavy heat settling between us, words have to be enough to convey the choking warmth I know you feel too. Because what else do we have?  
> Slowly, slowly the winds give out and we aren't opposed anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heady (adj.)  
> -(of alcoholic drinks) potent, intoxicating  
> -having a strong or exhilarating effect  
> - _affecting the mind or senses greatly_

Heady  
Sakata Gintoki/Hijikata Toshirou  


Hijikata trembles in the morning light, though really he tries not to. He shudders at the cold wind against his skin, flinches at the scalding coffee against his tongue, and really, really he tries not to as the doors slide shut and the room isn't empty. His floor is a mess of scattered papers, his desk and writing equipment somewhere or the other, his sword stuck in the wall and sheets that lie in disarray around his disheveled yukata and sleep deprived body. 

Yamazaki tries to smile as he sits down, his cheeks are pink and he glances sideways at the gap in the yukata that exposed Hijikata's leg, long and pale and it looks so soft but Yamazaki keeps his mouth shut and waits sitting there so long he sees the mug of coffee settle against the tatami mats and when Sougo comes in he takes the cue and leaves. Sougo, however, doesn't take this well. His lips pull into a snarl, brows twisted in worry and as he stands frozen by the door Hijikata forces his reluctant mind to at least give him strength to clean up the room, pull his sword from the wall and locate it's sheath among the papers, collect all the sheets and attempt to organise them, he's gotten a third of the way before Sougo grabs his wrist and the last thing it is is gentle. 

He doesn't speak though his tongue clicks and the chattering of his teeth is obvious as the shiver in his grip but he has the strength to force his chin up, to push Hijikata against the wall, red in his eyes spilling over to their rims and Hijikata knows his pallor is the same. "Sou-"  
" _Please_ ," his voice falls, low and soft and it means enough that he doesn't need to speak anymore. His grip loosens but doesn't lax, his head drops against his superiors shoulder and the warm drops dampen his uniform, he smiles wryly wondering how many goddamn tears this will spill for everyone else. When his fingers rise to tangle in the younger boy's hair, he leans closer and almost flinches but sighs instead, broken and shaky from the hiccuping sounds he's making, and when Hijikata pulls him towards the futon, Sougo refuses to let go and eventually the dark haired man falls asleep, all the while convinced he needs a straight slap in the face for not being up at the right hour.

When he wakes up he feels a dull pain in his limbs that's far from the comforting afterburn of training or a fight, he shifts slowly and Sougo, who doesn't seem to be asleep, grips his arm. "Sougo, come on, lets get up?" He tries, voice hoarse and scratchy, helping the other up by his hand and leading his own stumbling steps to the washroom hoping nobody would see them and likely nobody does. Sougo is complacent, he waits as Hijikata brushes his teeth again, washes his hands and splashes cold water on his face. Sougo waits, waits until the other is done and turns to go before he stops him. 

Sougo's chest is burning, his throat constricted and his vision hazy, annoyed, overwhelmed by himself and all of a sudden words, which have never been difficult for him are becoming difficult, becoming weighted and heavier than he's used to them being, because whatever he says will be heard by _Hijikata,_ will be processed and answered to in some form by the vice commander and two wrong steps could lead to a sword in said vice-commander's chest. He curses his own memory for that, and Hijikata might deflect every joke he throws, but both of them know he won't fight anything Sougo forces out. And that's _terrifying_  to the younger boy because his temper is a raging beast in that be has no ideas how to keep it under control.

He doesn't even have a choice in that matter, sometimes he's just irked, other times he's provoked and all the time his reactions are either empty and hollow or violent to the point where he isn't even fully conscious of his actions. He always regrets the aftermath. Hijikata turns, lids heavy and eyes boring through him and he falters again, glancing around as his mind drags a dredge through his thoughts till they're no longer coherrent; he has so much to say and not the capability to say any of it. But he _has to_ , Hijikata _has to know_  that he can't just be in pain alone, he can't be debating and upset on his own, Sougo will go and strangle Gintoki if he has to just-

"Hijikata-san-" and no other words filter past the stopper in his throat so Hijikata smiles, or tries to, ruffles his hair, or thinks he does, and finds his way back to his room, or so he tries with Sougo behind him. "I know," he doesn't need to hear it to know Sougo is worried, doesn't need to see the concealed holster within his jacket and knows his feelings are his own to sort. And Sougo is _so young,_ he may be arrogant, rude and forceful in his personality but past all of that he's only 18, panic and worry and it's obvious he doesn't sleep sometimes, it's obvious he's not okay sometimes and Hijikata will be damned the day he lets himself become an addition to that hurt. Sougo stays in his room, half asleep against his chest as he restarts on his paperwork and only leaves when Kondo comes in.

Kondo Isao does not intrude on people's personal lives and let that be known far and wide. So when he enters Hijikata's room without pretence, no work no papers and a grim look, even Sougo looks anxious as he walks out. To say Hijikata feels like a child who's broken a glass door and fallen over the pieces is an understatement. "Tosshi, I'm going to sit down for a while," he says but there's no mirth in the voice and when he sits down their shoulders almost touch. Sighing, he leans against the wall and stretches his limbs out, hand settling on the crook of Hijikata's neck and shoulder from behind. 

"You know, you don't have to make this that hard for yourself," he starts, Hijikata scoffs. When the silence stretches long enough the vice commander is able to articulate the, "He wants different things," that's caught in his throat, it comes out as nothing more than a whisper but Kondo smiles. "That doesn't matter, I promise you," and he sits until Hijikata finishes the work and relief washes over him. The vice commander is always more relieved when his work is complete, when he doesn't have things waiting to be done, and this is how Kondo is aware that he's flitting around for a response to give the yorozuya who'd been clear on his intentions. The lack of response leaves the question lingering almost mockingly in Hijikata's face and that's why his answer is _valid._ That he isn't sure is a _valid answer_.

Because it's an answer of some form and the stupid perm hovering over him doesn't help with his presence etching out the demand for said answer. They'll figure it out, he knows, he knows, but it doesn't make it any less painful watching him hurt this way.

Kondo knows there are already officers covering all the regions of Edo on their rounds, but knowing the vice commander will get restless is what gives him a patrol assignment anyway. He doesn't seem to notice which region of Edo Kondo has put him up to but he soon will, and though he doesn't like doing these things, maybe this time it'll work out somehow.

\---

Gintoki remains in his confused state of panic for every minute after Hijikata had run that day, from one statement that he's too drunk to recall but had probably been rude, and though the cause is minor it's a domino effect to the bigger part of a worry he hadn't realised Hijikata had had at all. The conscious lack of a definite wording for what they have had been a comfort until those words had fallen from his lips and now Hijikata is probably _scared,_ scared he wants more than the other is able to give and Gintoki only wishes he was able to convey that this is enough.

The scared part of him is shivering at the prospect of not being able to talk to Hijikata again, but that settles with the irrationality of alcohol in his brain. If the dark haired man wants any level of distance Gintoki knows he'd give it freely, for whatever length of time or lack thereof necessary. He's sober now, barely and completely hungover, mostly just exhausted and as he trudges to the kitchen to pull out his carton of strawberry milk it strikes him that there's not nearly enough for him to be full. Shopping it is.

He's shoving his feet in boots, still yawning and tired and half asleep as he scratches Sadaharu under the chin, ignores the blood in his hair and scream for Kagura to wake up and get him away, which she blearily does as he slides the door open, asking him to buy her pickled seaweed. He scoffs and shuts the door with his heel, halfway tripping down the stairs and getting into a discussion with Tama, who's at the bottom of the staircase, about going anywhere while hungover without medicine. She insists he shouldn't, that it's bad for health, and his eyes roll so far he's even smirking now. 

When he spots Yamazaki at the street corner, his foggy thoughts snap to attention faster than he thinks to whip his head around, which the plain boy does anyway so Gintoki only has to wrench his gaze from Tama's hair and his heart stops. It's actually hilarious how much that Shinsengumi vice commander is able to make him feel with just a glance. Hijikata's gaze is averted, downcast and Gintoki can't move fast enough but he does see Tama smile and walk to Yamazaki to distract him. Still he pulls Hijikata behind the stairs, into a rough hug that's much too forward but to hell with it if he can be bothered now. He needs to speak. 

" _Hijikata-_ I don't know what I said to you but I'm sorry, you can't scare me like that it's bad for my heart."  
For a span of time the only sound between them is his heavy breathing and the clench of fabric where his hands are heavy on Hijikata's shoulders, holding him at length enough to see his face as he frowns. "Scare?" Is all he says when he does speak, and Gintoki shakes his head, "You just _ran_ , Hijikata, you just _left._ You've never done that before."

"That's-," he starts, gnawing at his lip, hair falling into his clouded eyes and Gintoki sighs, pushing it back and leaving his palm against Hijikata's cheek, dropping the hand that's resting limply against his shoulder; this one the other catches in his own. Gintoki tries not to smile, tries so hard because the other is still trying to speak but it doesn't work, the smile and a sweet warmth spread across his face and Hijikata looks up. The scoff he lets out is mixed with a laugh, his eyes dart away but he squeezes Gintoki's fingers that lace with his own. "It wasn't something I meant to do."

The sigh the Yorozuya takes is heavy enough to warrant him dropping his head against Hijikata's shoulder. "Listen, Yorozuya-"  
"I'm always listening, Hijikata," the blush that dusts across his skin is worth the gap in his words, and he does continue, "I can't give you an answer."  
There's a finality in that statement that isn't a sentence, it's a leading promise and a firm one that only Hijikata is capable of projecting into a couple of straightforward words. There isn't a hint of doubt in those words, but there is a wherewithal that he has thought this over a hundred and more times, that this is the final answer he is capable of giving at the current moment. 

"I'm sorry," the words slip out as an afterthought, Hijikata lets go and pushes Gintoki's wrist off, turns around and his steps make for the way around the staircase they're standing behind, but Gintoki can't allow that, he just _can't._ "I don't care," he what his mind comes up with, but at least his arms have the common sense to fix on Hijikata's upper arms, pull him back close enough that he can see the fire in Gintoki's eyes. And the Yorozuya? God, he can smell hints of tobacco, morning dew, coffee and mint and all of those go straight to his head with so much potence he has to convince himself not to swoon, not to waver as he fixes his gaze. 

"Don't- what?" Hijikata answers, and his breath fans over Gintoki's lips; it's all he can do not to close the distance so he clicks his teeth and closes his eyes for moment enough to pull back his self restraint. "It's enough that you're here, I don't _care_ that you can't answer," he fumbles for the words, coaxing his mind to cooperate with his tongue for once, pulling out each syllable from a thought he would never voice in any other situation. Hijikata's eyes widen, his right hand raising to clasp on Gintoki's wrist to pry it off but the latter is having none of it, fingers gripping almost painfully tight. 

" _Hijikata_ ," he starts, lungs screaming as his heart tightens it's clench on his throat, he's suffocating, drowning in these words he can't get out, sinking in Hijikata's liquid sapphire eyes, and he almost has to convince himself he doesn't want to drown. " _I love you,_ didn't you hear me the first time?" And he waits, he waits, he bites his tongue and tastes blood but he waits until Hijikata begins to answer, "I d-" is as far as he gets before Gintoki's voice has to continue, "It doesn't matter to me, _are you listening?_ It _doesn't matter_ as long as you are here." 

He's deathly serious, eyes glinting with a sanguine rarely seen off the fields of a war zone and by the trepidation in the other's gaze he knows it's working. Or it could be, he's never been good with trying to read Hijikata. He always gets distracted by the highlights on his lips, the curve of his lashes, the unending blue of his eyes. Gintoki stops, sighs, loosens his fingers and softens his expression to one that conveys his question as to whether or not the vice commander is opposed to his company. That's all he wants to ask, that's all he cares for, not pressuring the other into any sort of answer to his confession. He won't deny he wants an answer, wants to know what he thinks, but that can wait as long as it has to. If Hijikata wants his company that's enough.

A small smile touches his lips, faint but it's enough, just enough when cold fingertips graze the Yorozuya's wrist and are gone, enough that he doesn't feel uncomfortable moving close enough, the press of his fingers to the others arm a question that's answered with a shift in gaze. Gintoki presses his lips to the soft skin at Hijikata's cheek, reaches down to press his thumb on the others palm, brings both their hands up and kisses Hijikata's wrist, once, twice, he stops. 

His breath comes out shakily, he wonders if he's crossed a line, but the dark haired man circles his uniform-clad arms around Gintoki's neck, loosely and accompanied by the sigh that's everything unsure at once, it's enough that he has to wrap his arms around Hijikata's waist and pull him closer, closer, his thumb brushes the other's hipbone over his uniform and when he lets go Gintoki is glad to move. His legs step back, step around, and he finds himself asking if Hijikata would like to go to the grocery store with him. He pulls out a comm that's running static and clicks the talk button, "Who's the officer in Yamazaki's region of Edo?"  
Two voices answer, so he clicks it off and follows Gintoki out. Tama is sweeping the floors outside, she looks up and offers a pleasant nod in their direction as they go, just as Yamazaki returns with two bags of anpan and a grin to offer the vice commander.

The convenience store they step into has coolers at the back that Gintoki goes straight for, Hijikata lingers by the magazine and manga section scanning titles he vaguely recognises until he's interrupted by a feminine voice, "Oh, if it isn't Hijikata-san! What a coincidence, Kyuu-chan and I were just here to buy things for dinner."  
"Shimura's sister, huh? Fancy seeing you here. And Yagyuu as well," he nods to both, turning enough that it isn't rude.

"Oh my, your hair's grown out quite a bit hasn't it? I hope you're maintaining it well," Otae smiles, even as Kyuubei nods in agreement, starting to explain the duties of hair care before Hijikata interrupts to tell them both he's had hair longer than Kyuubei herself and has managed just fine. It just hadn't occurred to him to go for his timely haircut recently. He reaches back to judge it's length but a hand catches his wrist and Gintoki's voice filters through, "Now what's the fun in telling him? Lets watch it grow out, why don't we?"  
"Gin-san, you're here too? Is Shinpachi with you?"

"Must be at the Yorozuya, he's not here. We'll be off now, this store doesn't have strawberry milk," and he's dragging Hijikata out fast enough that he's confused. The second store they enter has a cooler right next to the cigarette and lighter shelf, so he simply stands with his back to Gintoki who's become sidetracked by pudding. He's just looking at the make on a pipe until one taps his arm at the side, "You won't find any good quality pipes here."

"I know, I'm not looking to buy," he answers the Yoshiwara's head of guard. Tsukuyo, he thinks, but isn't too sure. "He doesn't need a pipe, you crazy woman," Gintoki cuts in, backhanded without turning around and Tsukuyo transfers her own to her other hand before gesturing to Hijikata's wrist for permission, he shrugs and she picks it up. "He has pretty fingers, Gintoki, a pipe would suit him more than you."  
"What do I have to do with it? I'm not a chain smoking steam engine like you two."  
And as an afterthought he adds, "He does have nice fingers, but that's not reason to put a pipe in them, blondie."

"I handle a lot of things during work, and a pipe along with those becomes difficult. A cigarette doesn't have to be held so it's convenient."

"You could leave the pipe in your mouth."

"And ruin the make with the carnage of raids?"

Hijikata crosses his arms and Tsukuyo nods appreciatively, sifting through packs of milk beside Gintoki. 

"Tsukuyo-nee!" A younger boy calls, running across the aisle to shove a basket at her, "You suddenly vanished!"  
She smiles fondly, putting a carton of milk and another of custard into the basket before ruffling his hair with a muttering of, "My bad, I didn't notice."  
The boy turns around, makes small talk with Gintoki that the vice commander tunes out as he debates menthol or Mayoboro flavoured cigarettes, only turning back when the boy asks who he is with wide eyes. 

He smiles, "Hijikata Toshirou. And you are?"  
"Seita. Hijikata Toshirou, the demon vice commander of the Shinsengumi?"  
He chuckles, "Who told you that?"  
"Don't needa be told, everyone knows who you are. Y'don't look like what I thought though."  
"Oh?"  
"Lemme watch you fight sometime!"  
"Afraid I can't do that."  
"I thought so. But Tsukuyo-nee can take me to watch, right?"  
She laughs, "Maybe."

A woman in a wheelchair rolls up to them, "My, my, what are you all standing here for?"  
"Mom! That's the demon vice commander of the Shinsengumi, Hijikata Toshirou! He doesn't look like what you thought right?"  
The woman laughs, "Certainly not. But Hijikata-san, he means that in the best way. I'm Hinowa, his mother."  
"Of course, miss," he offers a small smile, the familiarity between these three a warm domesticity he's never known. The boy starts talking again, "He looks like-"

"A model, don't you think?" Gintoki cuts in, not even glancing his way at the blush that spreads across Hijikata's cheeks even as he wills it not to, but the natural perm continues, "It's unfair, honestly, his hair is so damn straight and if it weren't for his constant frowning he could very well quit the Shinsengumi and become a model. Or model for recruitment, they'd have no shortage of officers then."  
Hijikata cuts in, "We have no shortage of officers now."  
"Well we know why," Gintoki shakes his head, putting both the pudding and strawberry milk into the basket Tsukuyo is holding, only to receive a slap upside the head. 

Seita chuckles, "Gin-san's right though, you're prettier than anyone would think of the name 'demon vice commander'." He isn't sure if he should smile or laugh so settles on half a grin before the woman in a wheelchair shakes her head, "Now you're scaring him, let him buy his cigarettes in peace."  
He's glad they don't try to get him to quit or tell him the side effects he's heard a thousand times before, but reasons it's probably because they're acquainted with Tsukuyo. He buys both flavours and stays at the store talking far longer than he should. By the time they step out of the store it's late evening, even though they'd only left after noon, and when they walk Hijikata wonders how strange of a group they look and decides he doesn't care, not with the laughter they share and the wide smiles between them. 

When they reach the Yorozuya, Gintoki claps a hand on Hijikata's shoulder, squeezing lightly before he leaves with half a tired wave and Hijikata offers to escort the other three back to Yoshiwara. The boy and his mother skip in front of them; the vice commander lags behind to give them privacy and is joined by Tsukuyo eventually. "You know what responsibility feels like right? Knowing when your decisions could make the difference between casualties and survivors, thinking of everything but yourself."  
"Mm, in some sense of the word I suppose, " he starts, shrugging as he contemplates why she'd picked the question. "Responsibility of yourself, your feelings is a different kind," she continues, boot scuffing against loose bits of gravel on the road and he says nothing, tilts his head in a motion that pushes her to continue. 

She does, "You've got it, but so does he." And it clicks. She's talking about _Gintoki,_ that Hijikata doesn't know both sides of their relationship and he's painfully aware of the truth of that statement and the warning in her voice. She taps his shoulder, and when he turns her grin is lopsided, tired and she offers him her pipe. He takes it because the smoke is wafting around them anyway, exhaling the thicker-than-cigarette mist that billows around them and the alleys of Yoshiwara they part in; Hijikata's footsteps directing towards the barracks of the Shinsengumi once more. 

Sougo is waiting for him along the way, feet shuffling and sleep deprived, and he's almost afraid to say the same past the warm heat in his chest that spills into a smile. He's sure he's imagining the silver hair around the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's finally my birthday again! Which, for this story means the one year anniversary, 16 chapters of angst scrap I never meant to post but here it all is and I'm so grateful to all of you. Special mentions to aziciel, my first ever comment was from them, thank you for sticking around this long, in your few words you always drop by your presence and how much it means to me. Anonymous, who's reviews have gotten longer and make me almost giddy, you're always the first to review since you've shown up here and I can't tell you how grateful I am. Eliinthesky, for the enthusiasm in your reviews that always makes me smile.  
> And every single person who's read all 16 chapters and odd 70K words of this nonsense, all of you make my day.  
> Thanks for reading as always! Comments and kudos are always welcome and help me to write future chapters


	17. Countenance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your expressions change just slightly, just enough that they won't notice  
> And you don't believe me  
> I notice, I definitely notice, even if they won't, and you need to know that.  
> I don't think you've _registered-_

Heavy  
Sakata Gintoki/Hijikata Toshirou  
  
 ** _"Hijikata I-"_**  
  
The air is warm and humid, sticky with the summer heat and sweat and the Yorozuya smells like boiling milk and half eaten sukonbu but Gintoki doesn't care. His legs are cramping as he leans back in his chair, tipping his head back to catch the chill of the air conditioner. The windows don't help either, gusts as if from a desert that flow over him and strangle him in reverse. He closes them and hopes Kagura won't ask. Shinpachi isn't here because he's at the dojo and Kagura is whining, whining and kicking her feet at the couch and the table ignoring Sadaharu who's nudging her repeatedly. 

 

The enormous dog huffs, finally shifting around her to move towards Gintoki who's perfectly content to pet it but the dog bites him instead, and he thinks of a shower blearily with lethargy. At least the china girl is shaken out of her stupor by this, prying jaws off permed hair as the owner of said hair lectures and bitches. Sadaharu yawns and goes to lay down by the cupboard that his owner sleeps in while Kagura half-heartedly counters Gintoki's banter and he realises that's fine because he doesn't have the capability to fully joke either. The doorbell rings.

**_"Hijikata, I don't know if you've registered-"_ **

When the door slips open without pretence they both know its Sougo who walks in with his eyemask between his fingers and a bored expression that breeds the annoyance he has for today. "Danna, you know that Yoshiwara bitch right?"  
"Ahn? Which one?"  
"Pipe, blonde hair, fishnet tights."  
"Ah, yes. She's their moon or something," he wonders aloud, not in the mood for interrogation or answering anything but Sougo doesn't stop. "Lets go, Yorozuya."

  
"Where? We're citizens, unless you pay us we won't do anything."  
"Shut your mouth and follow," he snaps, tired and clearly not in the mood for this, his usual, "You'll be paid" not gracing their walls. Kagura stomps her foot, lunging for her umbrella but Sougo is already out the door and Gintoki is following with a morbid curiosity. "So where to Soichirou-kun?"  
He doesn't get an answer and is only slightly miffed because the sadist looks preoccupied with something or the other. They stop in front of a road stand, duck behind it because there is nobody manning the stand, and Sougo gestures across the street. 

 

There's a dustbin with an ashtray, so he only has to turn and there indeed Hijikata is standing in full uniform holding his comm up and right next to him is Tsukuyo in all her bitch pipe glory, making right conversation with the vice commander who puts his comm back on his belt to answer. Gintoki can't hear what they're saying but they do look amiable. He won't say he's jealous, maybe slightly twinged but not outraged so he turns to Sougo who is literally emanating an aura of fire.

  
'I don't trust her' is written across every inch of a stance that says he's tried everything to get her away and she hasn't listened. "Get rid of her, Danna, away from him before I kill her."  
"Whoa, why?"  
"Can't have some courtesan guard killing the vice commander can we?" Is what he answers but clearly he just doesn't like her. Doesn't like her around the only form of semblance to emotion he has. Kondo has always been surrounded by shady people and honest people alike so he's used to that but Sougo refuses to trust Tsukuyo with Hijikata and he's willing to stoop to calling Gintoki at the risk of a fight with Kagura for it.

  
"Ah well, lets go join them then."  
Gintoki stands up, aware that hopping over the dumpster would've made him look cooler but he's too lazy, and makes his way over to the other two not caring if Sougo is following. "What a coincidence, vice commander! And to you too, Hyakka chief."  
"Wish a good day to your sarcasm, Gintoki, and tell us what you need," she answers.  
Hijikata chuckles. Actually chuckles and Gintoki snaps, "I don't need jack from you, but if it's a job I'm getting I won't complain. I do need something from the vice commander though, let's go."

  
Obviously, _obviously_ Hijikata raises a brow and taps his cigarette in his pocket ashtray. Not even acknowledging his sentence. Tsukuyo glares at him outright, shifts her pipe and sighs out smoke around them. It's choking almost, the air is thick with smoke between these two and Gintoki can barely breathe but he reasons this is better than the suffocation of being alone. For Sougo's satisfaction and that he can't forcefully separate the two, he decides to be the imposer and tail them under the pretence of work.

 

\---

Hijikata won't admit it to anyone or himself when he feels a searing warmth at the chuckle by his shoulder when he recognises the voice. He's just buying cigarettes, this shouldn't be so difficult, but Gintoki is here now and his mind won't function. He buys an extra pack to smoke afterwards and spends time in his presence relieved that his voice won't quaver. He doesn't feel butterflies in his stomach or jitters in his heart, but he does feel a queasy flip in his chest and a scrambling uneasiness in his mind; it's so intense he thinks he may be going crazy at first. Or perhaps sick, because every feeling he has feels ill and tiresome, and more often than not the sensations haunt him with the memories of the man they pertain to. 

 

Feeling affection towards Mitsuba- Hijikata will never have the gall to say he's been in love, though he knows that's what it was with her- had been so different he doubts this is anything _at all_ and isn't sure if that's terrifying or relieving. With her it had been sweet words and promises, flowers and smiles forgotten by the sunset, cool balm for his wounds, bandages, and mayonnaise replaced by spice that burned his lips and tongue and throat. With her he felt lighter, sweeter, more ably open, his smile came easy until the words fell before him. And then he was trapped as though by so many hundreds of wolves not wanting anything less than the best for her, and that simply meant not him, he was willing to give his disjointed feelings for her happiness. 

 

When he'd followed Kondo from that place he had done _his_ best to keep _only_ the best things for Mitsuba. Gods, he won't deny it had wrenched his chest out and replaced it with lead and molten heat that seared through to his eyes and cheeks, memories of her long hair tangling with his as they sat shoulder to shoulder under cherry blossoms in the evenings and he has to say he felt for her like he'd never felt since. But he had done it with the desire for her to have everything and more he couldn't give. He just couldn't handle the burden of unanswered feelings because the confusion had been on his insecurities and he's the one who'd chosen to leave.

  
Gintoki is different. He's loud and abrasive and long since has Hijikata believed him to be a pain, an annoyance at best and a royal piece of shit if not, but the reflection of time has taught him in his smoke clogged room of the value in those sanguine eyes and the words he's heard but doesn't know how to believe. He believes Gintoki and that he's serious but he doesn't believe in his own satisfaction and therefore there is no way this is real and no way he's that lucky. People don't have feelings for him, not unless they see something in his face or his hair which he doesn't understand since he has cut it, and he knows there are many ways to convey appreciation. Gintoki's had been flat out confession, but would Hijikata be a bad person if he doesn't directly confess? He doesn't want to go any further with a man as serious as Gintoki so long as he's unsure of his own feelings, and so he wonders how to go about this.

When Hijikata comes around to the Yorozuya, he's more often than not on duty and taking a break but is nonetheless swarmed by the occupants whomsoever they might be. At times it's Tama who wonders about Yamazaki, at others it's Sadaharu who shoves and shoves at his arms at his chest until he gives in and pets his fur, thankful for the lack of biting.  
Kagura's enthusiasm is almost contagious as the slow smile that spreads sheepishly across Shinpachi's face, and more than once he thinks to himself that the family they have here is irreplaceable. It's special in a way that nothing else can be, and yet he's drawn to the figure Gintoki presents amidst this.

  
He has Kondo and Sougo and Yamazaki the way Gintoki has Kagura and Shinpachi and Sadaharu, Katsura and the tradesman and Takasugi, worlds will pass between them before his lists cut off but he knows the tearing loneliness in Gintoki's eyes so desperately he wants to reach out and clamp their spirits together. Because family like that, people like that are a million things to be grateful for but a million more not to burden on the nights he can't sleep and days he can't breathe. Gintoki is just as good a con artist as he is, disguise of the misalignment in his smile and the shudder in his step easier than breathing in the air that doesn't feel right. 

 

Hijikata does not have the dedication to craft that well, he's haphazardly himself and an underlay of a thick later of words he doesn't say. They're achingly similar, and still so far apart it sets him banking to the ashtray on his table, so black with ash that when his vision blurs he can see space and bright stars. He's undeniably attached to Gintoki, stuck in his gravity and the overbearing heat of the implications in who they are bleaching their reality, he's so attached it makes him ill, ill at his lack of distance and genuinely terrified of the inevitable loss he'll face once Gintoki is bored of him. He doesn't know if he can do this, how to do this, what he feels. He doesn't know anything but the press of unmade decisions.

"Hijikata?"  
"Mm?" He mumbles distractedly around his cigarette, only turning when Gintoki's hand on his shoulder stops him. "What is it, Yorozuya?"  
He's met by silence watching the other think through his words, slowly and deliberately, never turning from Hijikata. Then he coughs.  
"When Shouyou adopted me, he gave me unconditional love. I didn't believe him," he chuckles wryly at this, looking away from the dark haired officer. "And because of that, I was never what I wish I was."  
Hijikata tries to understand. He knows what lines are coming next and wants to think this is irrelevant but it's not. He doesn't want to regret any decision he'll have made.  
"And then he was gone."  
It's not a threat or a revelation, it's a story, like Gintoki had said, and he gets it.

Why should he worry so much? Why should he let this go to waste in his own disarray? It's a wrapped up message he isn't sure how to explain but it makes him think honestly that his over thinking will affect something more than it has. And Gintoki isn't telling him to stop thinking either, no doubt he was too, he's just telling him that **now** _belongs to them_. Here, _this second_ , belongs to _him_ and it's okay for him to focus on it. It's _okay_ for him to breathe.  
He gets it, _he gets it_ , and then they're walking again till they're at the edge of the Kabuki district and Gintoki stops.  
"Well, that's my cue."

  
Hijikata wants to stay longer, a few seconds more, just a bit longer, but he has no excuse to and so he nods. Nods once and turns.  
"Hijikata," the other calls, quiet and sweet, so tender it rushes up his spine and makes him dizzy. He turns.

  
Gintoki steps closer, slowly enough that he's giving Hijikata the chance to stop him if he likes, but he doesn't. His fingers lift, drag softly against his folded collar and cravat, the skin on his neck and hair at his nape, brush against the corner of his lips, the dark tangles behind his ear, and stop. His hold is gentle, slight shiver and light press, cupping his cheek and waiting. Hijikata can barely breathe. But he does know he doesn't want Gintoki to kiss his lips, he's scared, it's terrifying, but even still his touch is comforting. 

 

Gintoki doesn't, instead he moves closer, presses his lips to Hijikata's cheek, brushes his locks behind his ear and moves, albeit reluctantly. The vice commander is lost for words, insides sputtering and dying out but his self control wrenches his hand up for a wave in return to the one Gintoki is giving him and then they're both walking. In opposite directions.

Shimaru won't say he's the most observant one in the Shinsengumi. Kondo keeps track of things his own way, keen eye for detail and an edge to the way he looks at things that matter to him. Sougo with his raging tempest of negative emotion despite the neutral appearances he puts up, is a sight to behold indeed when he really wants to know something. Yamazaki is, after all, a spy with good reason so Shimaru won't put it past him to know a lot of unnecessary things. But the orange haired officer will say he's possibly one of the most observant ones. 

 

He picks things up in behaviour, more often than not. Not in that people are acting _abnormally,_ but that they are different from _their usual selves;_ hell if Shimaru knows what normal is. Speech patterns, the tick of an old habit, or strangely nervous actions, they all send off flags in his brain that tell him when someone isn't okay, isn't their normal selves.

  
It's a sad thing, really, because for that he'll need to know what their normal is. Luckily, or perhaps not, for Hijikata he _does_ know. They don't speak daily or often, but there's a strength in the innate communication built on years of respect and training together, working for the same thing and learning each others quirks. Hijikata tends to switch hands very often while sparring if it's casual. Shimaru tends to turn on his leading side, but he wields two blades regardless so their matches are always a sight. They both know if Hijikata were to pick up two blades, which he can, their spars would be largely different but that isn't the reason in the first place. There's no animosity in their training.

  
To say it's alarming when Hijikata begins _missing_ is an understatement.  
He'll skip out on training some days _entirely,_ and other days train for so many hours his palms turn red and bruised, and he doesn't spar with anyone. Shimaru can't ask him to, he's never had to before, so he stays opposite just watching in secret, curious, concerned, bated breath until the vice commander finally goes to wash up. There's blood stains on the kendo sword. Before he can look closer, Hijikata comes back with a cloth to clean them off. 

 

Shimaru notices these things, the small differences in routine, little ticks really, he regulates his mayonnaise consumption and doesn't care much about the brand anymore, his cigarettes are menthol almost all days Tetsunosuke doesn't buy them, his snappy tongue skips out some days and most of all, the others are wary around him. He almost wishes he doesn't notice so much.  
But this is vastly better than when he'd been in the hospital, so Shimaru is content in the pacing of his behaviour; he'll get better, definitely, he'll get better.

Shimaru tells himself this every moment he isn't sure of it, when Hijikata is sitting at his balcony overlooking the garden at 3 am with a cigarette between his lips, Shimaru doesn't interrupt, he sees him, he passes, and the image haunts him for the rest of the night. He wants to ask, he's wanted to ask for a long while and a long while more, but he knows Hijikata needs a certain privacy he can relate to and won't push. 

 

When he's at the brink of his patience, sixth, seventh, twelfth, twentieth night Hijikata isn't sleeping, Shimaru slips down his position by the tree and slinks through the garden to sit next to him. The dark haired officer doesn't comment, merely shifting his gaze so his hair will obscure his face in bangs, and Shimaru thinks that's alright. He isn't here because someone asked him to be, nor because he believes he can help Hijikata. He's here because he _wants_ to be.

  
"Shimaru."  
He turns.  
A cup is offered to him, filled with sparkling saké and he takes it.

  
Across the rooftops, two ninjas are running, bright purple hair and a sandy dark shade painted by the light of the moon. He rests his hand against the vice commander's, lightly and for just until he's finished his cup, then he squeezes the other's shoulder once, offers a smile behind his mask and leaves.  
Hijikata smiles, downs his cup, and closes the doors.

 

_**"Hijikata, I don't know if you've registered that I'm not** _ **joking.** _**I can't watch you doubt yourself, and me for saying that.** _ **I love you.** _**"** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading as always! If you liked it, comments and kudos are always appreciated! I love to hear from you!  
> (If it wasn't clear the bold text is a vague at something Hijikata has heard from Gintoki)


	18. Headway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are still here  
> This time, we have progressed  
> This time, there is no standstill  
> This time is a testament that we are further  
> And we are _here_

Headway  
Sakata Gintoki/Hijikata Toshirou  
  
The nicest setting they're in together is always a bar. Maybe it's the liquor in their systems that makes talking easier, maybe it's the familiar atmosphere of competition towards who can drink more. Or maybe, just  _maybe_ , it's because being drunk or halfway there gives them an excuse to walk closer on the streets. Gintoki has used this tactic countless times, but now, today, for the first time, Hijikata is doing it. 

At first Gintoki genuinely believes the other is tipsy, even though normally he can take much more alcohol. His speech slurs more, his smile comes easier and a dark blush streaks across his cheeks to accompany the infrequent hiccups. So it's just concern when he loops an arm around the officer's waist and drapes said officer's arm around his neck, but then he sees the  _smirk_. Hijikata  _smirks_  at him, offhanded and glancing sideways and Gintoki wonders how in which life he's not supposed to jump this minx. 

 

Still, for the sake of the contact he holds on as though he hadn't noticed the other's not-quite-drunk state. Hijikata probably knows too, but he only chuckles and stumbles too heavy to actually be natural, and Gintoki laughs at how ridiculous this is. Ridiculous is something he wouldn't have expected to think so often but every time they drink together this is how it works. Today, their body heat mingles and he's so glad he's not piss drunk. He's barely buzzed, surpring given the amount of alcohol he'd consumed.

Outside the Shinsengumi barracks, in a side alleyway they've used as a shortcut, Gintoki questions the act once more as Hijikata stumbles, this time because he's actually tripped, hands catching the lapels of Gintoki's yukata. His back is against the wall, the base of a windowsill prods his side, and the other chuckles against his chest.

  
"You're at least tipsy right? To be this uncoordinated?"  
"Who said I was uncoordinated?"  
That goddamn sly-  
"Okay now you're just being unfair," he pulls Hijikata closer by the waist and lets his own laugh roll past the groves of his neck. His yukata is sliding. 

Gintoki wants to die right here.  
He does the next best thing.

"You should crash at our place, vice commander, I wouldn't want the soldiers to think their beloved demon is this wasted."  
Hijikata chuckles, presses closer and both of them know if he speaks it'll be against Gintoki's neck, which he's both more than fine with and  _ridiculously_  against.  _He's not sober enough._  The absolute  _demon_ , he speaks anyway,  
"Wasted? And what makes y'say _that_?"  
"Well for one you're holding on to a broke, drunk, unemployed yor-"  
"Careful there. I just so happen to like the person you're bad mouthing."

His breath hitches, but Hijikata makes no move to shift and Gintoki knows if they stay this way too long he'll have issues. Downstairs issues. "Hey, Hijikata," he mumbles into the soft locks, smiling unconsciously when the other hums. "Let go," he says, though he wants to stay like this forever. Hijikata lets go of his yukata to put his hands on Gintoki's shoulders for 'support' and then he looks up, "Hey, the barracks is closer. You should stay over instead."  
He can't say no to that face, that voice, not even accounting for the proximity.

Though they'd fallen asleep on separate futons and while talking, when they're woken up by an unholy anpan screech it registers that they're now tangled together. Hijikata pretends he's not awake, though he just barely suppresses a chuckle when Gintoki flips off the spy and sticks his tongue out like a child. As soon as the door shuts he lets the suppressed chuckles turn to muffled ones half against the pillow half against Gintoki's chest. It's so honest to god precious that Gintoki feels like he's probably not alive anymore. Except for when someone fires a freaking bazuka at him mid-laugh. Not  _someone_. Like  _hell_  it was  _someone_.

  
There's no need to open the door because there's a gaping hole from the bazuka but Sougo does anyway, deadpan announcing something about breakfast. The minute the missile whizzes past Gintoki- who screams and jumps out of the way- Hijikata jumps, nearly falls over and turns just as Sougo finishes.  
"Dammit Sougo are you trying to kill me?!"  
"Well normally I think so. But today's blast-thine-neighbour's-friend-instead-of-him day."  
"To hell with you and your goddamn made up holidays! Fucking fix my room first you piece of shit!"  
"Now now Hijikata-fuk-"  
"Okita-san. Can you  _fuck off royally_." Gintoki doesn't put much bite into it but it's enough to be terrifying and Sougo makes a ' _geh_ ' sound in his throat before he leaves. 

 

Hijikata's still cursing under his breath, scratching his head then pressing one hand to his neck as he works out the stiffness of sleep. Gintoki watches, fully entranced as the other stands and arches his back, stretching his arms before straightening his ruffled yukata and running a hand through his hair. 

Hijikata calls him, "Yorozuya? Come wash up, if you have work you can leave after breakfast."

The blush on his cheeks and slightly downcast gaze is not lost on Gintoki, and he feels himself snap out of his trance with an edging grin, checking for drool as he stands and following the vice commander to the restroom. He waits by the sinks as Hijikata excuses himself to take a shower, only because he doesn't want to go back to his room without him. Eventually he gets bored of this, and though his mind is still debating on whether or not to secretly use Hijikata's just-used toothbrush, he rules himself off as being like a high school girl and goes to find someone he knows. Surprisingly a lot of these people don't even have faces. He's pacing outside Hijikata's room when the other taps his shoulder once, and then he freezes because he's  _just wearing a towel._

He's seen it before in the sauna, but that'd been  _before._  If he could go back he would spend all the minutes ogling him. As of now Hijikata just scoffs at his pacing, smile gracing his lips momentarily as he pulls open the door. Gintoki hadn't noticed but it'd been fixed with tape. "What's the routine today, vice commander-san?" Gintoki tries, knowing if he were to consider that Hijikata is literally changing behind a cupboard door in front of him, he's going to lose it. As is he's trying not to wish the cupboard doors opened the other way.  
"What? Since when do you know anything about routine, bastard." It's a scoff, but a humoured one.  
"Since you have one. So? Tell Gin-san your schedule so I can exploit your free time. This time we can go to a casino."  
"Not going."  
"Cabaret club?"  
"Uh-uh."  
"Horse racing?"  
"What the hell?"  
"Family restaurant?"  
He shakes his head and Gintoki can see his hair so he knows.  
"How about...just nowhere."

  
There he pauses, peeks out from the cupboard a bit as he's fastening his belt and Gintoki kindof awkwardly tries to keep a straight face.  
"Yeah I could go for that," comes the answer from behind as Hijikata walks around to open a different door, still only clad in pants and a cuffed white shirt.  
"How come you don't keep your clothes in the sliding door closet?"  
"Tosshi stacked that thing full of otaku stuff. And I wanted a screen to change behind," he pulls on his vest, buttoning it before searching for his cravat and socks. "Couldn't you just change normally in your room?"  
"There's no lock so people walk in whenever they feel like it."  
Gintoki reconsiders his train of thought.

  
Hijikata fixes his cravat and is putting on his boots when Gintoki sits by him, trying to act casual.  
"Gintoki?"  
He hums a questioning noise, but before Hijikata can answer again he puts his arms around Hijikata's neck and mumbles, "I don't think the alcohol is quite out of my system yet." It's a pathetic excuse, he's not even hungover, but the other seems to buy it. He lets himself be held, even though his hold in return is loose, fleeting, hesitant.  
And just as soon they part ways. Gintoki to kill time, Hijikata to the morning meeting. 

 

When he finds himself back at the Yorozuya he wonders how he ended up there but shrugs and climbs up. 

The first thing he does is go back to sleep because Hijikata gets up way too early.

 

When he next comes to it's late afternoon, slightly dimmed glow of the sun and the smell of sukonbu and rice, dull rumble he recognises as the TV behind, and he almost nods off. But then he remembers he's taking a trip with the vice commander who's off in the evenings,  _perfect timing._ He fixes his clothes, decides against a shower, borrows some of the deodorant from a plastic bag of things he notices on the table and then leaves, stretching as he puts on his boots. Kagura looks too tired to acknowledge anything but she still manages to tell him he should be careful.

Gintoki tries to recall where they're going. Hijikata hadn't spoken up much, but his agreement to go out somewhere is enough so Gintoki scours the city for a place he thinks Hijikata will like before finally settling on the rock café in hopes that's what he likes.  
Neither of them are listening to the music at first, but then Hijikata  _definitely_  is because his mouth pulls into a smile like he's heard these songs, his fingers tap the table just a little, and though the restaurant isn't posh or fancy they're both enjoying the time. Gintoki wonders about the gift he'd bought, still in it's wrapping in the sleeve pocket of his yukata.  _Not now_ , he thinks,  _not just now._  

 

When half the night is over and they're both four drinks in at a next-door club, who should step in but Yamazaki, looking disoriented and like he hadn't meant to be here at all and yet suddenly he is. He glances around warily, near paranoid, and spots Hijikata who's buzzed enough to give him a jaunty wave that's highly out of character. He slips into the chair beside Gintoki, looking through the bar menu before ordering something that sounds awfully plain, or it would have had Gintoki been actually listening to the plain fool.

"What're y'doin here, 'Zaki?"  
"Ah! Uh, I just stopped in fukucho! Wanted a quick drink is all," he smiles stupidly and Gintoki rolls his eyes, clearly not buying that he wasn't tailing the vice commander.

  
"I didn' know y'drank that often really. Are ya a lightweight?"  
Hijikata's cheek rests in his palm, eyebrow raised as he waits and Gintoki wants to smash Yamazaki's head into the table when he blushes.  
"Not quite, sir, I can hold a bit."  
"Is that so now? Do y'wanna try then?"  
"Huh?! Against you, Hijikata-san?!"  
"Jimmy-kun's right Hijikata-kun, there's no way you're getting piss drunk today."  
"That from you, Natural perm?" There's no real venom so Gintoki just rolls his eyes and watches Yamazaki enthusiastically talk about his reports for the day, daily anpan consumption, all while downing glass after glass in tandem with Hijikata and they both look just on the verge of passing through to massively inebriated stages: throwing up, slurring even more, emotional disasters. 

 

Gintoki takes another drink after that just because he doesn't want to be sober for this. When Hijikata all but passes out on the table, Yamazaki, who's completely gone as well, threads fingers through dark, soft locks and stares with such innocent admiration that Gintoki wants to ask what the hell he's doing. He can't find the heart to, especially not when Yamazaki turns to him and says, "Take care of him okay?" Before leaving, hands in his pockets, stumbling through the door.

  
Hijikata sits up blearily when Gintoki prods. "Hijikata?"  
"Mm...?"  
"Do you want to sober up, love? Get some coffee from the cafe we left?" He prays he doesn't lose his head for the nickname.  _It's a slip up_ , he tells himself, he's ready to tell Hijikata. The dark haired officer doesn't seem to catch it, sitting up with a frown and wiping his face with a sleeve, draining the last dregs of his cup before attempting to stand. That, of course, fails miserably as he immediately holds on to Gintoki's sleeve. Something clicks inside it, Hijikata somehow does not notice. Or maybe he has and doesn't quite care.

It's only after they've had some coffee and walked half a mile as the Shinsengumi vice commander sobered up, that Gintoki feels horrifically tipsy. But right now doesn't seem the time to take advantage of the state, so he stays quiet when they walk and attempts to force his brain into keeping conversation. They walk straight past the barracks and the empty streets of night, this time not too close, and talking amiably as if they'd all the hours in the world. This time Gintoki invites Hijikata in. This time, somehow, the other accepts. 

 

As Hijikata flicks through Gintoki's closet, the other confirms with a check in the cupboard that Kagura isn't here.  
"Hey Hijikata-kun, do you wanna watch soaps? I have 'em taped."  
"I have work tomorrow, Yorozuya."  
"How about just one?"  
"...just one. And I'm borrowing this brown...," he hesitates, and Gintoki flinches hard. Hijikata is going to find out about the carnival and the movie theatre- he's already panicking.  
And then Hijikata walks past him in that yukata, "It looks oddly familiar you know? I think I've seen it before, but I'm not sure."  
"Maybe on someone?" He's digging his grave.

  
Hijikata shrugs, sits down on the couch. Gintoki flicks the TV on and lets the soaps play, having seen them each countless times. But still they're both crying by half an episode, and neither quite know why. Gintoki is pressed into the other's side, and his face turns to the pale skin of Hijikata's neck, leaving soft, butterfly kisses from his throat to the cut of his collarbone. The other's breath hitches. "Gintoki-"  
"Mmmmm?"  
"Pl- d-," he takes a deep breath and sighs, "What are we  _doing_?"

  
He doesn't know.  
"We're  _living_."  
"Do we look dead to you? Only dead thing roundabout here are your eyes."  
"Not until now, I haven't lived in so long I'd forgotten what it was like."  
"What are you-"  
"That was surviving. This right here?  _Nothing is gonna convince me this isn't living._ "

  
Hijikata looks like he wants to say something but Gintoki can't process enough to press, to ask to hear it. Instead he caves, rests his hand against the small of the other's back and presses full kisses to his neck, throat, humming when his Adam's apple shifts with the hitch in his breath. It's all he can do to restrain himself from pressing his teeth enough to leave marks, and the restraint marks itself in the push of the hand that's in the other's hair.  
" _Yorozuya-_ "  
He wants the itching to  _stop_ , it's _burning his lungs_ ,  _his throat_ ,  _every inch._  
"Natural perm-"  
He doesn't realise that Hijikata feels identically in that.  
" _Gintoki-_ "

  
This time he freezes. His sudden lack of movement suffices as a sign for Hijikata to talk. "Please don't do that."  
"Don't do what?"  
"That, this, this is what-"  
_This is what lovers do._

__  
But he doesn't even think it because suddenly Hijikata's face goes blank, colour draining from his skin as he pulls the cloth he's wearing. Recognition flashes in his eyes momentarily.  
" _You're-_ "  
Gintoki pales even more, slinks into the couch holding his head up against the back and tries and fails to think of an excuse to this.  
"Please let me explain."  
"Zaki knew."  
"Well, I didn't tell him but-"  
" _Sougo_  knew"  
"He could've just been watch-"  
"That's not a coincidence!"  
"And I'm telling you he's playing around-! No, no wait that's not what I- look, _please-_ "  
"Who else fucking _knew_ and  _kept it from me._ "

 

"Hijikata, please _listen_ , please, I got angry and desperate and I-" it had been difficult enough to get out that much but now his tongue catches, his breathing becomes heavier and he can feel the heat on his skin; still shudders from the accusatory gaze. "You  _what,_  Gintoki?"  
"I'm just- I just  _couldn't-_ "  
His dark haired companion sighs so full that it sounds like a drag of a cigarette, but he'd snubbed out his last one by the Yorozuya entryway. The sigh is accompanied by half a smile when Gintoki blanks out long enough to look before his mind is seizing again, he's shivering, he doesn't know what to say.

Panic turns to fear that bubbles through him because he just knows that this will end badly and it's terrifying to think about  _now,_  after they'd finally gotten past the crude bits of their relationship; it's near impossible to picture because he just doesn't want to. The thought makes him sick, violently so and when he rushes to the kitchen to throw up in the sink because it's closer, he doesn't take long to empty out his stomach, and for his breathing to calm enough that he can taste acid in his teeth as he runs water through his fingers wondering how much he'd drunk today. It's the alcohol's fault.

He stays there with the cold water tap open and the noise grounds him so he leans forward enough to be hunched as far as possible.  
"Breathing comes first, Yorozuya," the voice Hijikata uses is tired, hoarse, but patient. And Gintoki knows if he turns that breathing will become his last priority; kissing the other full on the mouth would be the only thing he could process. So he doesn't turn, lets his lips stretch into a grimace, and inhales sharply. The rancid after taste of retch and booze isn't an unfamiliar one, however unpleasant, so he's used to it enough that it doesn't make him gag.

  
Hijikata's thumb traces the cut of his scapula, slowly, with more pressure for exactly an instant every five seconds. Even though he isn't trying to, he registers that as a kind of anchor-beat and syncs his breathing to it. Accompanied by a long exhale, his scoff contains virtually no humour. Hijikata doesn't seem to mind this.  
They just stand in the silence of the dripping tap- for the other had closed it almost fully- long enough that Gintoki's back stings and elbows begin to scuff, and he's sure Hijikata's legs are stiff and free hand is fidgety, and possibly his hip from leaning so long against the jutting counter. But the silence means one thing clearly:  _Take your time._

__  
Gintoki notices perhaps for the first time how neat the kitchen is. There are no dishes in the sink, all the drawers are shut and necessary easy-access tools neatly organised by requirement.  
"Pattsuan."  
"I thought so."  
"I've never...been in here."  
"I knew."

"Lucky guesses?"  
"Lets make it three," he slides in, carefully.  
Gintoki raises an enquiring eyebrow, wondering what the last guess would be without the supplied context.

  
"You thought I'd get mad at you," he shoots, crouching by Gintoki's tired figure breathing heavily on the floor.  
"How about four now, clover?"  
"You also probably thought I'd never talk to you again." Hijikata says, so much because that's what he'd thought every time he snapped at the other.  
Gintoki scoffs, "Or at least long enough that I'd grow to resent myself."  
"Okay three, you thought..."

  
He waits for the other to think, waits with the sound of the dripping tap, his back against the wall and his mouth burning from the stomach acid.  
"That I wouldn't sort it out with you."  
This one, Gintoki laughs at, not actually believing the three guesses.  
"And if I were to take a crack at four, I do think that's - no I won't actually. Gintoki, we're...there's  _so much_  I could say."  
"Say first that we can sort this out, please? I'll...I'll  _try to explain_ , this time-"  
"-guess number four, you want to sort it out."

  
"If I had the cash I'd buy you a medal."  
"I'll settle for your explanation."  
"Well, me- I-," he runs a frustrated hand through his hair, ignoring the catches in his unruly locks and trying to form words. Hijikata sits patient, legs crossed, head against the wall.  
"I couldn't talk to you as  _myself_ ," he manages, in one breath and not loud enough to be heard outside the kitchen even though they're alone. "I couldn't...as  _Sakata Gintoki-_ ," the implication is there, intoned but clear.

"I couldn't exactly shave my head and get a long moustache but it was...a wig, mask, clothes and  _so easy._   _Sakata Gintoki_ couldn't talk to you. But  _Asamiko_  could."  
Hijikata waits, waits incase Gintoki has more to say and enough time passes that he has to ask, "And the girl? The one who slapped you in the face?"  
"Yeah I have absolutely no idea who that was."  
"Not a Fumi-chan."  
"Might not even have been a -chan. I don't know."  
Hijikata shakes his head, in disbelief more than disgust, like he's wondering if he can trust the perm on this. It's highly unlikely.

  
He doesn't understand and it sounds like he'd been taking advantage of Hijikata somehow, it agitates him and more than anything he's wondering  _why the hell_ Gintoki couldn't just talk to him by  _himself?_  Asamiko had been a nice kid, a fond smile at the thought and brightening his day hearing he'd been someone's idol. Was that a  _lie_? 

Obviously it was a lie. 

 

There's a large part of Hijikata that wants to ignore Gin, not believe anything he says and roll his eyes. But his gut says this is the truth. He believes it, he tries, his lip splits from the force of his ripping the skin off, and every part of him that's aching tries instead to breathe.  
"Yorozuya," he starts, between clenched teeth and an itch for a cigarette. Gin hums, folding his hands in his lap and looking up.  
"You're fucking  _horrible._ "  
Gintoki lets out a dry laugh, unmoving.  
"Swear you'll just talk to me next time."  
"I'm banking on there not being a next time," he mumbles, voice catching on the words, and Hijikata realises he may actually be drunk from how flushed he is.

  
"Swear it anyway."  
"Yeah, alright," he sighs, blinking heavily. He pulls at his sleeve a bit, taking a deep breath, "I swear."  
Hijikata doesn't say anything, but the fact that they're still in the same room is supposition to how far they've come from where they had been. Eventually, the lights from the paused television and the dripping tap annoy him enough that he stands, turning off the TV and closing the faucet before he offers a hand to Gintoki. Gin lets himself be pulled up, pitiful gaze riveting on Hijikata.

  
Hijikata glances down, half smiling, "In hindsight it'd have been a miracle to have the demon vice commander idolised by anyone."  
"Hijikata, that's not what I-," he cuts off, emotion flooding his face as a sob is wrenched from his throat and with no warning at all he yanks Hijikata into a crushing hug. 

"God,  _I'm so sorry._ "  
His arms are shivering, Hijikata feels the knots in his shoulders when his hands reach up.  
"I can't tell you it's alright, or that I'm not mad, but I won't go anywhere."  
He waits, a few beats, " _I'm not running,_ Gin."  
Several minutes later, Gintoki pulls away, fingers pressing to his forehead to easy the headache.  
"I think we both need to sleep."

The next morning, when Gintoki is conscious, Hijikata has already left, no preamble.  
And the disdainful brown yukata sits innocently where the futon and Hijikata had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I'm 17 now! It's my birthday again hehe  
> So I decided to update this with a chapter I've had in the works for a while :)  
> As always, thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it <3  
> Comments and kudos make my day!  
> (I started this at age 14, posted on my 15th birthday and look how far it's come??? It's ridiculous and thank you all so much for being around and for reading it thus far)  
> Here's the various times I've written this:  
> (2/10/2017, 2:26)  
> (2/10/2017, 5:54)  
> (P.s. yes I haven't slept yet.)  
> (Oh my god the sun is rising)  
> (4/10/2017, 1:46)  
> (5/10/2017, 0:05-00:11)  
> (6/10/2017, 2:13)  
> (1:26)  
> (26/10/2017, 1:07)  
> 1:14)  
> (26/10/2017, 23:53)  
> (4/11/2017, 4:53)  
> (10/11/2017, 23:43)  
> (14/11/2017, 0:16)  
> (16/11/2017, 1:18)  
> (21/11, 2:13)  
> (2/4/2018, 1:00)


End file.
